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

  • Motherhood

    Nights you’d prowl the house in stark contrast to days of nursing/moving/coaxing Did you slip away, certain your baby was asleep – forgetting she was an only child soon to miss the warmth of your body? or was it a need from deep inside to have some part of each day silently to yourself? It…

  • 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…

  • Guardians

    Tall and thin, he leans against a jet, sun bouncing off the carrier deck beyond, a peaceful expanse of South China Sea something quietly tired in his smile In other pics boys far too young flash vibrant smiles as they climb about aircraft – Tanned and shirtless a young tousled-hair plane captain laughs at the…

  • Drifters

    We rootless, searching whisper prayers of Christmas hopes silently, snow falls and there is Peace Firstborn, checking lights shares the magic of Christmas with his patient easy smile Bear proudly announces “I’ve bought all my presents!” while butterfly daughter, busy ‘making’ knows Santa really does exist Dad seeks refuge in the garage listens to laughter –…

  • On Whitehall Creek

    Life was expectant with spring’s first bud rushed headlong into summer barely paused when Fall rescued us from languid August days. Winter nearing we must linger till morning light to pull on warm clothes slip past sleeping cats and out for our morning walk. No heron or Squirrel – only geese pass overhead, honking snow…

  • August Seventh

    Earth so dry Beginning to relinquish hold on a landscape slowly losing the struggle to dig deep enough for life sustaining moisture – sprinklers small comfort. Into each heated night, cicadas loose a relentless, high-pitched plea – no relief and dawn arrives – gray as the day before. And yet – yet the strawberry pot…

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.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