A Carol

What’s there to be so worked up about? Is it
an upset stomach, a crumb of moldy cheese,
an underdone turnip, a ponderous chain
that clanks with every careworn step?
Let the snow fall amid the stenciled
branches, let the winds swirl like spirits
whose coming is always foretold, but who
cannot linger. They’re here, they’re here,
they’ve never left. They watch us who weigh
everything by gain, point to the shadows
of things that are yet to come. Curse
or blessing? May you be happy in the life
you’ve chosen
. Remember what passed between
us: clear, bright, cold. I know this place,
this tune, down to the last mince pie and dance.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← Landscape, in the Aftermath of FloodLittle Winter Song →

5 Comments


  1. Ah, Luisa, you touch my soul! I liked:

    a ponderous chain
    that clanks with every careworn step?

    Reply

  2. And a merry Christmas to you too, Luisa! :-)

    The ghosts do come crowding, at this time of year.

    Reply

  3. “May you be happy in the life you’ve chosen.”

    Indeed. You remind us not to take what we have for granted. Happy Holidays to you!

    Reply

Leave a Reply