I come home in December, when
the snow lights the world around me.
Sun is the light, snow is the mirror.
Memories again take
my thoughts to childhood.
Secure, naive, happy.
Mom and Dad, friends, warmth of the fire.
Food, family, church, carols,
they defined Christmas then.
They define Christmas now.
December’s cold offset with
the warmth of the people I love.
Could this be the last one?
Might four score and ten be possible?
We don’t get to choose.
I’ll anticipate next December all year long.
Optimistic, realistic, pessimistic?
I couldn’t say.