Late December Morning

Portrait of a late December morning
etched in glass and ice 
the air so still that your breath hangs in a frozen fog
suspended until the ringing of the cathedral bells shatter it
and it falls to the ground tinkling like crystals
a December morning so cold
that your nose loses feeling before you even have a chance to cross your threshold
the wind glitters in the trees
collecting crushed leaves like forgotten memories and swirling them around in the
still freeze that wraps itself around the old churches
time stops here
waiting
breath suspended
for the next moment that the world starts to turn again
and breaks itself out of this
December eternity
this December moment
in the late morning
when frost covers the earth in a thin layer of incredulity
and reality forgets itself
as it watches the stars spin about
and the impossible become slowly possible
in the thinning of the veil between worlds that December always brings
you never know what you’ll see this time of year
what you’ll hear
nothing is certain
December whispers that it’s the month of death
but it lies
December is month of waiting
hanging
suspended
outstretched millimeters from touching flesh
mouth open
breathing into what could be a kiss
in one interminable moment 
of silence
as the world refuses to turn
refuses to advance to that next moment when
eternity will break into this dimension
shattering all our illusions so instead
the world
waits