WINTER WISH

[I am signing off Gather for good.  I must.  It's been an amazingly rewarding experience for me reading your writing and the critiques of my writing.  I've come to see many of you as good friends in writing.  So as my parting gift, I offer the following as a small and insignificant holiday present.  I hope your holidays are joyful.]

Let me give you winter, the best I have,

when life’s beauty isn’t taken for granted,

when the world strips to its naked form

and emerges so pristine and unadorned

that you can see to the soul of it all.

Let me give you snow, thick and heavy,

and a steep hill you must zigzag to the top

just so you can do it again, with a bump

half way down for launching skyward

and after landing you’re dusted with stars.

Let me give you a music box of polished wood

with thumb-worn brass key for winding

so when standing in front of the fireplace

and lifting the lid you twirl through the room

to the Dance of the Sugarplum Faeries.

Let me give you wool blankets, maybe two,

down vests with quills escaping, lined gloves,

quilted long johns,  galoshes with buckles

and a goofy Elmer Fudd hat with earflaps

you wouldn’t be caught dead in otherwise.

Let me give you children who refuse to come in

and be warmed with cocoa and marshmallows

because they’re immersed in the act of creation

making the snowman perfect since who’s to say

the primordial element won’t melt in a moment.

Let me give you a bit of heaven on earth.