331, 332, and 340: The Seven Days of December: v

To be a giant of any great size,

especially if mountains were like hills,

to think of falcons as if they were flies,

and seas and oceans merely bathtub spills.

How fun it would then be, to know such ease,

to run, to climb, to dive into the deep,

to feel the feather down of forest trees,

and set your head upon them for to sleep.

I think that I’d be like a child again,

all things so fresh and new unto my touch,

and never fearing monsters, beasts, or men,

because they are no longer threats as such—

because I am the biggest thing around,

who now can find, and fear not being found.

~~~

Whene’er on council’s counsel I attend,

I call the names of everyone at hand:

a hand, to me years past, I so extend;

and, too, to me in whate’er future’s planned.

The younger one will offer words of hope,

for hope we had before the present day.

The elder cautions out things out of scope

before ambition walks us down its way.

Betimes I hear the fore more than the aft,

but that is good, I think, if it can be--

for rampant hope is hardy handicraft

when caution makes a coward out of me.

They say I’m something in-between the two

but I do not believe that that is true.

~~~

We didn't get much time outside, I fear;
but Hope did. Yes, Hope had a lot of fun.
For when the seldom wintry day'd appear,
she was the first out of the door to run.

I thought that I would have enjoyed it more
if, like this go around, it were not cold.
I was, instead, a quite complacent sore
upon the month's festivities, I'm told.

Of course, no-one has said this. But I know.
We yearn to cheer at festivals of yule.
December gives our love a chance to grow--
This year I played the scrooge, and, too, the fool.

But Hope went out to play as oft she could,
despite no snowmen in the neighborhood.