Some lines, with vaguely seasonal connections:

Presnensky Val
(The Year 1905 Station, Moscow)

I have in mind a silver cross,
Suspended from a slender neck;
Body-warmed through winter cloth,
It whispers on a field of black.                      

*
The monument to failed revolt
Is hung with colored Christmas lights;
The brandished weapons, giant bronze
Absorbed into the festive rites.

But turn the corner, and it’s quiet,
A fever broken, turmoil passed --
A shrouded stillness, like a hand
Laid shyly on a lover’s chest.

Bare trees, gray snow, blue moonlit steam,
Steel rails in stone: I pace a song,
Some half-remembered thing re-grown
In the garden of this silence.             

*
I have in mind a silver cross,
A slender neck, a body’s warmth,
A hand laid shyly on the night,
The mingled accents of our breath.