HIATUS

It's over, crumpled paper
in the re-cycling, fridge
filled with left-overs, trifle,
topside, Christmas pudding.

Lights still glow on trees,
candles sparkle in darkened
windows, unwrapped gifts
lie waiting for drawer space.

Television fills the gap
with old jokes, old films,
catch-up soaps and long-
forgotten double acts.

Gardens too play a waiting
game, baring branches
to the winds, herbaceous
plants tucked below ground.

We are tantalised by odd
glimpses of green, a shaft
of pale sun, promises waiting
beyond new year's open gate.