I never do Poetry Friday posts, and I never participate in Tricia's Monday Poetry Stretches, either. Well, never say never. Here's my attempt at a poem in terza rima, a little Advent piece.
The season tells me wait: for grace, for love.
I hope, and wait, and watch, but sometimes all
Seems lost, It is, I know, a season of
The worst of excesses. A heavy pall
Falls over me. I aim for joy, for gifts
That mean the most, that answer to a call.
But as the day approaches, lost in “ifs”
And “ands”, and “buts”, and “had I but the time”
I cave, surrendering my hope to bits
Of colored glass, and trinkets, for their shine.
The glitter cannot last, I know; it fails
To give the deep-down joy of love. I dine
On disappointment mingled with the tail-
End of my hope. And then--a child, a toy, a light!
We make a moment: briefly, whole and hale.