The whispers of vacation recede
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.