December Tanka
Light snow
dusts the foothills,
the roads glazed.
The wait for your return
punctuated by false alarms.
Flurries drift
against the patio slide
with a rattle.
The sound of your car door
heats my chocolate.
Snowflakes fall
until the rooftop
covered,
only smoke seen.
Inside we are warm
under quilts, near each other.
Warm winds
the thick drifts vanish
beneath a flood.
I listen as your last words
echo through the rain.
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