Early dark - December dusk;
headlights cocoon us,
still - we want the welcome which lies
just out of view:
The old home place - oil lamps -
delicate curtains and crocheted doilies;
Ghost scent from the coal stove;
Sunday dinner still on the table
beneath the checked cloth;
A hall tree laden with coats,
boots and gloves piled just inside the door;
A stairway which waits to be climbed,
waits for the exhale,
the purr of bodies beneath winter quilts,
waits to bestow the 2 AM creak.
December dark evening -
headlights and home enclose us
but we still want
what lies just out of sight:
Mystery, magic, excitement, romance;
Solace for the tears;
Bounty for every child;
A gift on the table
wrapped in cotton cloth
tied with silk ribbon;
Here the dilemma -
Will a mystery opened bring disappointment?
Do we want answers
or only the constant desire?
May you never loose
the wish for magic,
the allure of Bethlehem.