The whispers of vacation have receded
remembered only in the near-silent poetry of
dogs dancing through the house on furry-slippered feet.
Frost weeps from the eaves
and the trees wake from icicle-like slumber,
one sun-filled drip at a time.
Words flow through the quiet,
tentative at first but soon humming with energy.
The vigor of creativity and re creation.
Revisited.
