December 2

TUESDAY 3

Another open
Bulmer’s bottle by the first,
its twin, on the wall.

WEDNESDAY 4

In the waiting room
we look at photographs from
Jaipur and Agra

THURSDAY 5

The swan boats have been
packed away. The real swan swims
in the space, forlorn.

FRIDAY 6

The single leather
glove, soaked, lifeless, still waits for
someone to claim it.

SATURDAY 7

Two arrows, white on
black boards, point right, eyes against
the bare roadside trees.

SUNDAY 8

The three-quarter moon
shines pearly, buffeted by
wispy, darkened clouds.

MONDAY 9

Past 4 in winter,
meteorological, at
least, sunshine expires.