-Nearing midnight on the Eve-

Approaching tomorrow but fifteen

Minutes away — walking with neighborhood friends

Across a field of snow which fell in the cold of late afternoon.

The sky is clear above the brush of moonlight.

The parish church, those days still active,

Rises from its slow elevation, its standing

Stained-glass windows shine bright in the near distance

As the atmosphere strengthens its posture, and community closes in.

Murmur of rubber

Soles pattern the snow beneath our boots;

Lay the frozen

Traces of ourselves on the bluing

Snow-plain beyond the left-

Field fence of the hibernating ballpark.

This is the night’s hushed vocabulary.

Soon, westward toward the banks of the Taunton,

Earnshaw's Diner will open its doors to daybreak.

So will the little Night Owl Diner at the "Top of the Flint".

So will Al Mac's Diner at the foot of the "Seven Hills".

 Quequechan / 12/24/58