December and a Former Cotton Field
by Gary Hardaway
In the sad suburban subdivision
with its cul-de-sacs and broken curbs
and its longstanding Cavaliers and Escorts
the brown grass overgrows the sidewalks
and limbs of token Bradford Pears
planted when the brick-faced
3 BR/2 B houses were new
hang half-down
split by late November winds.
Strings of multi-colored light bulbs
outline doorways here
and ornamental dormers there.
They await the evening and its
small electric surge of gaudy hope.
You've captured both the passage of time and time standing still, poetically illustrated with graphic details: enjoyable reading.
Big like.*
Christmas lights, like the fake hope they dish out on TV.
Nice.