Stephen King has said that “the road to hell is paved with adverbs.” I say it’s good intentions never met. Like sending holiday cards. I meant to do this, really I did. But here we are four days from Christmas and I don’t own any holiday cards, no Santa Claus stamps, and too many other deadlines. So, Friends, Family and Acquaintances old and new, here’s my version of a holiday card. It’s not all holly and berries, but the last line says it all.
Just to let you know
this town’s snug and rainy.
Coo and chuckle of doves and sparrows
near the window, baby fingers of sound,
tell me to get dressed, get going,
pay attention. I hear the click and whirr
of the heater as the fire lights itself,
watch the fern stretch shy new fronds
toward the light it knows it deserves.
We could crow and purr—
call and respond—
you call, I’ll answer. Make long-range plans
to celebrate another solstice,
to begin the long slide forward,
sad as knuckle bones on concrete.
Time’s a monster.
Wish you were here.