christmas reality

in postcard glitter of a snow, unmarked

by sledding rides;

under cedar boughs, where scarlet

holly berries hide.

at china-laid tables, set on linen cloth

for six or less

at which adults and minute angels are the

only welcome guests.

on a cookie tray daintily dusted

with nonpariels;

at the lacey curtain-edged glow

of electric candles.

is christmas to be found?

when boisterous greetings meet holiday

smells in the air

among the tumult of cousins, gleeful

over cardtable fare.

in the almost-hush of grandpa's grace when

bowed is each head;

in tart cranberries, celery dressing,

and grandma's rye bread.

where ice-frosted farmhouse windows

bloom yellow cheer.

where tradition reminds familiarity of all

that we hold dear,

there christmas is to be found.