Saturday, December 19, 2009
The hushed house is festive but serene.
No tree, house eves aren’t strung with dazzling lights.
But the house is not drab and gray,
Like the thinning hair at my temples.
While no longer a place of clutter and chatter,of children,
Yet memories of their voices do ring in my heart.
Fragrant kitchen, warm oven bakes cookies still,
While steaming up frosty window panes.
Pots of radiant poinsettias adorn room corners
And fence in the antiquated Nativity scene
That quietly heralds the approaching season.
Although with slower steps, friends still tread
Across the boards of a greenery laced porch,
Arms no longer filled with gifts and gizmos but
Still stretched wide for hearty hugs,
Seeking the warm comfort of friendship.
Later, I gaze across the cold night sky,
Gleaming crystal bright with star candles,
And soak up the quiet stillness while opening
The ribbon-tied memories of my life.
I celebrate the passing and changing seasons,
Treasure the tranquility of another winter.