Marcia Gardiner

Winter passing

Gathering lobsters

When storms scattered,
they gathered lobsters – jagged, indolent beings –
ruddy hands
dragged corrugated tubs along
the weed-striped beach – poor folk food for bologna logs – familiar tale.

Mussel shells

I love their story like a fable
you might’ve read – messy, periwinkle pergolas
wail for the ocean – azure and cream,
castaway,
wishing time undone –
instead, they watch the sky.

Carolers, anxious to get back home

Thickening Winter’s lids
drop sleepy, crystal tears
on the rugosas-
elegant, bowing, bending,
cool like Christmas mint sticks,
like carolers
with given-out voices,
anxious to get back home.

Seeing the new year in
As we recover from the winds
late Christmas night,
another beetle-browed front
directly in our path
bares it’s ragged teeth – it’s a chancy thing,
as we scuttle to the hall to raise glasses,
recharged,
to see the new year in.

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