Nineteen Fifty-Two

‘In the city’
where music danced on the night lights
we dashed store to store
over snowbanks, between cars
through crowds of people
across the cobblestone streets
trying to avoid puddles of slush – don’t slip!
meet. regroup and divide.
meet again outside under the Shepard clock
closely guarding our Christmas secrets
only the constant tolling of Salvation Army bells
brought us back to earth

Later
piled in the back seat
under the blanket, waiting for the car to warm
head resting against the window
the slush, now ice, crunching
under the car’s weight as we made our way out of the city
surely, kitty was asleep
on  my        bed         by       now                w a  i   t    i    n          g

As our car
threaded the last rotary
I awoke to flames
leaping, clawing angrily
from every window into the sky
fire engines and people stood
in the snow, in the dark, in the cold
helpless. helpless.

Houses Could Not Burn Down Just Before Christmas

Nothing to be done
our car continued into the night

Similar Posts

  • Oh Cats!

    This tree stands – lights and ribbons encircling – like a million other trees. (remember the popcorn and cranberry strings? Paper chains and brightly decorated cookies?) look! what a cacophony of ornaments! laughing like stars – they silently chart our course across a lifetime. oh cats, where has the time gone?

  • Tomorrow Today

    Sometimes life smarts – well, backward glances and forward hopes perhaps Examining – or not what it means to live a life “well lived” Striving to shoulder daily responsibilities, the shoulds, oughts, musts – while necessary – perhaps noble in some small way? Sometimes in quiet moments of reflection, it feels as if the shouldering…

  • Home On The Farm

    Against the antique oak rocker in the alcove leans a needlepoint begun decades ago (18th century American primitive re-created in my hand and style with woolen yarns and carefully selected stitches) Cart roads lead from the ‘big’ house, past out buildings and wild vines heavy with grapes (Norton?) – down at the river, a sailing…

  • The Enemy Within

    Door closed Maisie bounded from behind the sofa fresh with the scent of winter we measure the days and hours in Maisie time Locked in the moment he shrugged off a scraped and bloodied face – oblique commentary on a parallel universe Mud and grass stains are part of the game – then bundled to…

  • Broken Wing

    Tiny bird inside his breast pocket you are like the young three-footed buck and squirrel laying in the rain with a broken hip Science cannot heal all should we have left you to die? Young buck once jumped with a grace man never could squirrel – laughed with a zest unmatched How does your heart…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *