less than 1 minute read

thin glaze on puddles
little girls giggle and stomp
ice crunches under foot

Finally freed from him, the woman wipes the tears from her face, a bad year come and gone. She tucks the darlings into bed and steps onto the porch. Her breath frosts in the cold and the clock strikes twelve.

fireworks blaze the night
painted cotton, frozen sky
promise a new start

Photo by final gather