Whenever the trees like still-life pencil-sketches
Spread out their barrenness beneath the pale sun
Whenever the twilight its cold finger stretches
Into the daytime long before it is done
Whenever the wind is a rascally fellow
Lacing with frost the noon-tide’s pallid yellow
Whenever he provokes with his chatter, a tear
Then we know December is almost here
Whenever the passion of autumn’s romance
Whenever the hush after nature’s applause
In a rust-colored ocean, stills the woodlands
Hugging the earth in an intangible pause
Whenever the sparkle in a small child’s eye
Rivals in brilliance to the stars in the sky
Whenever the heart feels a stir of good cheer
Then we know December is drawing near
Whenever the brook dons its slippers of glass
And the meadow its shrug of silvery-white
Whenever the clouds brush tree-tops as they pass
And the moon is an opal to pin back the night
Whenever the crisp air is tinted with pine
And warmth is the color of ruby-red wine
Whenever the diamonds of winter appear
Then we know December is almost here
Janet Martin
Today's Prompt: Whenever...
