Switchback winds blow argyle rain—momentary diamonds
dissipating beyond our grey winter window.
We hide the unpaid bills in books—keeping pleasant
fiction places with Past Due and Final Notice.
East-west air pushes woolen weather as damp
logs sizzle their consumption in the fireplace.
Creditors call on Christmas with yuletide warnings—
recorded monotone carols heralding threats.
Filigreed spines and gilt-edged pages our only gold,
they reflect meager flames and empty, unchecked boxes.