cajoling the last of it out of the tube
I deplore the wasting of anything
yet every light’s left on in the kitchen

cajoling the last of it out of the tube
I deplore the wasting of anything
yet every light’s left on in the kitchen
Once again, I must swear off the news.
Every time I think – yes! – this is what will be his undoing, the rat bastards provide the necessary cover to enable his foul, despicable, corrupt regime to carry on.
How do these men and women sleep at night? Truly, have they no shame?
a range of three to twelve hours
five nearly passed and still, no sign
I wait for my first sourdough to rise
I yo-yo the thermostat
too warm, too cool, too warm again —
the change, many years long past
so that’s not it! —
I think my indecisive body
simply cannot make up its mind
barefoot across a late-night floor,
frigid air streams in, unopposed —
our front door fallen open —
winter letting itself inside
I shiver in the realization
there are those with so much less
than what we take for granted
a pot of chili and cornbread,
warm & fresh from the oven —
butter, slathered generously
a cold glass of Ovaltine
winter tummies, satisfyingly fed
The bottom of the year, the end of the line on a long scroll of calendar. Thirty-one days of ho, ho, ho’s and holly; yuletide fare and winter white. Children growing ever more ecstatic as Christmas approaches. Adults, some still young at heart, share in the glow of the holidays. Others, not so much. Disheartened and fatigued with the hustle and bustle, Scrooges among us grumble still.
Pay them no mind. We have more than eight inches of snow on the ground here in central Iowa. It’s beautiful, truly a winter wonderland, a feast for our eyes and world-weary spirits. Christmas lights up our neighborhoods. Holiday music triggers childhood memories and it’s easy to get caught up in the nostalgia of the season. TV fare soothes our psyches with classic favorite characters: Rudolph, Grinch, Ralphie and Elf.
I purchased a gorgeous copy of A Christmas Carol a few years ago. Last night, I started reading it, hoping to make this an annual tradition. Required reading in my ninth grade English class, the book made an impression, way, way too many years in the past. However, I’ve not read it since high school and decided a few weeks ago to read it in the month of December this year. The book is an illustrated version, nicely bound, and so far, a real joy to read. It’s fun to pore over the images, on nearly every page. It’s a shame I’ve not done this before now.
No matter. I’m enjoying it now just as I intend to enjoy the holiday season this year. Sometimes, I admit, I’ve been a bit of a Scrooge myself. My adult mantra has always been one foot in front of the other. Onward! For Christmas, now, likewise and ditto.
The child in me nods enthusiastically.
Coco peers out the sunroom window —
is he as blinded by the new-fallen snow as I am?
I wonder, do his dreams recall those puppy leaps
of uncontainable joy into that brisk vastness of white?
first snow; I walk about twenty minutes
but quality over quantity; that’s what counts
eight inches of snow, with more still falling
there’s not much traffic on these unplowed streets;
the entire (lumpy, uneven) center — all to myself
My prose poem, inadvertently, I disturb the sanctuary of a nest hidden in a clump of shrubbery, was published today in January House Literary Journal.
It is also scheduled to appear, in print, in their Spring issue coming out in April or May.
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