Blissfully Blank

Christmas is packed away,

and the house has

a spartan elegance now,

a comfortable simplicity,

with clean countertops,

bare walls,

empty corners,

easy floors.

It has

no clutter,

no expectations,

no excess,

no concessions to tradition.

It’s just a homey place to rest,

a haven for relaxing,

a place to catch your breath.

It’s a blissfully blank canvas,

open to hopeful changes, and

ready for a new year’s blessings.

The Seasonal

Today, I’ll put up Christmas,

The red, the green, the gold –

The beauty and clutter of

Family things –

Treasure turned tradition.

Santa pillow from Mamaw Brown

Horse and sleigh for cards,

A candy cane I stuffed and sewed the

Year we first got married.

Nativity scene from Prof and Ozelle,

Santas made by Dad,

Nanny’s crocheted angel,

Nesting dolls from Steve.

The furry brown dog

Who sits on the couch and

Barks his Christmas carols,

The noisy old Santa

With cymbals and drum

From Nola Jean and Pinky.

Kevin’s cedar snowman,

Stockings for each child,

A pine cone basket laced with light,

Lisa’s silver candles.

I’ll look one more time –

Did I miss anything?

Some holiday straggler who

Still wants to stay?

I’ll pack it away,

In part, to ensure

The dear regard we

Save for the Seasonal.

Moving the Mouse

“Whose turn is it?”

“It’s mine.  I’m sure.”

“No!  You moved it last!”

“I’ll just move it for you.”

So goes their playful banter,

A yearly planned regression –

Adults becoming children,

Eager to move the mouse.

He heralds yule excitement –

The quick-slow coming of Christmas –

Of presents, fun and family,

Of warmth and love and light.

Certain Sacrifice

A child-made stocking,

A “special-bought” card,

A gift, unexpected, that

Loudly says, “I know you.”

These are joys of Christmas,

Times that turn your heart,

Things that speak of Christ,

Most certain Sacrifice.

Angels in the Night

Lights and fog and darkness.

The result?  Manmade halos!

A Christmas Eve reminder of

Angels in the night.

Oh, that we could see them –

The always-here-but-hidden,

Those messengers of God,

Our audience/protectors.

Christmas Radio (a haiku)

Christmas radio –

Variations on a theme:

Our Savior is born!

Cover us all

We have smelled up close the

Breath of the darkness;

We’ve seen the cave blackness of

Life without Light.

We’ve felt its blind fury –

Its utter irration,

Its vicious indifference,

Its inhuman stare –

Launched on young ones,

On lovers of young ones,

On innocence, trust and

On its own mother.

Radiant Jesus,

Shine ever brighter –

Oh, how we crave You –

Cover us all.



(Dedicated to the victims of the Sandy Hook shooting) 

Compelled

Tragedy.

Why do we watch it, over and over?

Why can we not turn away from the screen?

Do we think we can translate?

Uncode the unthinkable?

Crack grim reality?

Find the truth’s flaw?

Can we fix anguished faces?

Pray them God’s graces?

Those strangers, like family, breathe our same air.




(Dedicated to the victims of the Sandy Hook shooting)

The Box

Traditions, you don’t comfort me.

I’m constrained, not contented, by

Your yearly boxed appearance, and my

Annual unpacking of the

Things we’ve always done.

I’d welcome some change, or

Fresh contents, or

At least an examination of

How you got here in the first place, and

Why you’re never questioned and

What’s beyond the box.

Little Dog

Sad little dog, just

Sitting on the pavement –

Nothing much to do but

Watch the cars go by.

Not a yard to play in,

Not a bone to crunch –

A tail that doesn’t wag, and

Lonely, empty eyes.

Lacking

Muted bell,

Gloved applause,

Gloomy light,

Grounded bird –

Wasted time,

Flameless fire,

Untouched feast,

Silent song –

Such is the

Nature of

Shallow thanks,

Lacking appreciation.

Maker of Home

I always hang it first:

The Mrs. Claus in felt –

Crafted by my cousins,

Children of Aunt Betty.

Christmas-red dress,

Soft scalloped apron,

Pear-shaped body,

Poofy white hair.

Steady blue eyes,

Cheery pink smile,

Holly leaf pocket,

Rounded black boots.

She’s kind and patient, and

There for her loved ones –

A keeper of laughter,

A crafter of fun.

I want to be like her, and

Like my Aunt Betty –

A baker of cookies,

A maker of home.