Esther Greenleaf Murer

Christmas comes before, and Epiphany after, the New Year.
Here ends your winter respite, if any: after the New Year.

You put the tree on the sidewalk and box up the strings of lights
and tinsel and baubles by Tiffany after the New Year.

You don't hear many more carols in four-part harmony
or Bach cantatas with their polyphony after the New Year.

The major part of winter comes with its sniffles and sneezes
and rheumatism brings on a stiff knee after the New Year.

Esther's doze and ears are so stopped up that she catt hear
Bozart's G bidor Syffody after the Dew Year.


ESTHER GREENLEAF MURER, an octogenarian relic of the twentieth century, finds the ghazal a congenial form for the way her mind works. She lives in Philadelphia, and may someday get around to updating her blog at