Sonnet For Dad's Hospital Room

Outside your window drifts the snow; the bay
Is cold, slate grey, and restless. But within
You are cocooned, shored up, against the way
The dark and cold attempt to filter in.
A set of lighted reindeer mount the pane
To see the sleigh and driver on their way.
So too stands Santa on a shelf, a cane
To guide your wand'ring mind and bid it stay.
It is the season of your birth, and His—
Your fav'rite time of year. It is the last
of ninety such. While Christmas lasts, it is
Enough, with all of us, to hold the past
And stay the future. Before a month is gone
Though, all props fail, and you go on alone.