Will love be true as December frost, or fickle and fall like the rose in June?

 My boy Rufus:

"December finds himself again a child

Even as he undergoes his age.

Cold and early darkness now descends,

Embracing sanctuaries of delight.

More and more he stares into the night,

Becoming less and less concerned with ends,

Emblem of the innocent as sage

Restored to wonder by what he must yield."

-  Nicholas Gordon