I remember christmas when I was a kid..... I think I'm still just a kid...

Christmas Now and Then (12-1-09)

Once a laugh, and someone is relating a story; smile and wait for the big finish.
An uncle or two you haven’t seen in while, look a little more weathered but contented
An aunt is writing the recipe down so you can try it at home.
How does Christmas feel?
And we did get there early like we hoped we would
In time to settle in with hot, hot coffee black from the pot
And cookies my mother made; yesterday, last week too. And every year.
How they smell like what she likes and who she is for us all here today! Mother.
The little children are given a little coffee too; two thirds milk, they are so proud to have it.
It will warm them and give them “spunk” for the sledding later.
I think I will give my daughter the sled my father got for Christmas so long ago.
How does Christmas feel?
The tree is not a balsam. It is not a white pine. It is not a scotch.
Cedar trees grow in the fencerows and that is what we have; spicy and sharp. Wide.
It has corn husk angels all around in every color of dye. They have acorn heads.
My hot breath like fog as I plodd thru two feet of soft snow to get it down and home.
Wait! Am I lost in Christmas past? Indeed I am. And it is sweet and welcoming.
How does Christmas feel?
My brothers would chase me around the tree and tease me
Now my brothers will chase my kids and their kids and laugh with me
My packages are wrapped much better than they used to be!
Red globes upon the tree are reflecting something; relating something;
What is the reflection I see today? Is that me?
Just one little tear accompanies the laughter, one little shining tear
Quickly brushed away. It’s secret not to share.
How does Christmas feel?
Mix the dressing, shovel the walks, play the carols, sing out Christmas!
Cold feet tingle, caring hearts gather, kitchen buzzing, cider warming.
Oh, Christmas, The Children Await!

Autumn 2009

Autumn comes and goes and with each passing year
I learn to value life a little deeper, another chapter farther
I can’t reclaim the summer past the onions or tomatoes
But autumn is the harvest time
They are in shiny pretty jars kept safely in the cupboard now.
Autumn cannot be kept nearly so safely.
Soon it will be turning. Tyrant winds and crystal snows arriving soon.
I can’t relive the sweet summer days with laughing children running
Green green grass for soccer, bugs to catch and bother.
But now the grass is brown and great for football, say my children.
Put and extra layer on, the wind is picking up! Go out to play ball little ones.
Your mother wants to sit in the window awhile with a cup of hot tea.
Autumn is so melancoly. Each autumn I am a little older.
Sit and hear the whirr of the corn harvest all around you.
Look and see the spring’s little calves, wooly and strong by now.
All is going on, moving forward, time is not still
And yet I am still; I am sitting still watching time moving on.
Autumn, the narrow, short corner, little rest stop in the path of time.