THIS TIME LAST YEAR

Was it only last November
that you had to weigh two terrors,
choosing, going further
down a list from which to lose?
Well-intentioned friends assured you
that the giver gives us only
what he knows each one can handle.
Think it’s true?

May your answer’s distillations
spice the steeping, mulling weeks
left before what’s bound to come.
May the lake you live near manage
all its grays without explaining.
May you meet each invitation
cheering you toward January,
as you’ve learned to, by maintaining,
deep beneath a frozen surface,
expectations of the sun.