knees, elbows, (reluctantly)
belly to the cold driveway,
black box, other eye, in hand,
trying to shoot the silvered miniature landscape
of the frost-kissed lawn. The first rays
will turn glitter to water, liquid to memory,
and I hurry to focus. In this hour, sprawled
on December earth, all around me is fairytale,
tree branches are lace, nandina berries are jewels.
I’m out early, trying to capture in ungloved hands, this day,
before some slant of light
too direct and blinding
strips the husk of wonder
from this Advent dawn.
Happily joining in with daily prompts
for December with other good folks