Fireworks crack the door ajar,
and piercing light peeks through
at break of night.
Noisy with neglect, the hinges can only creep
and screech. Then,
with a bang and final flash—
we’re inside, December’s din
diminishing into the dark.

                                 We’re here
in midnight’s silence,
slipped over the sill.
Now all is hushed and still,
breath abated, awaiting
day to break in rose-gold dawn.
Rising beyond the gate,
January turns to show her newest face.