Becketwood Cooperative
An Active, Independent 55+ Community of Owners in Minneapolis

Years End

Bill Cavanaugh, Becketwood Member

The stout yule candle in late December
Does not rush to its extinction.
It spins its wax in threads of smoke
Rising as the cold night air
Wheezes through the sash.

The flickering light at length will slip,
Consumed in the source that nourished it,
And the black wick will bend,
And curl in the cooling wax.



Leave a Comment

  • Maura Kolars December 28, 2016, 3:25 pm

    Beautiful! Love the images, especially the ‘night air wheezing through the sash’.

  • Carol Masters December 28, 2016, 7:24 pm

    Great — perfect image to accompany this poem.

    • Ruth January 1, 2017, 6:01 pm

      loved it, especially….”consumed in the source that nourished it”

  • sally January 1, 2017, 6:36 pm

    Alleluia! Thou everlasting Light!