As an event so warm,
that hearth fires glowed
like welcoming beacons
of life across the universe,
a moment of special
bonding between members
of family, friends, or others.
Perhaps it was not
the gifts from the giving,
but the giving of gifts
bestowed and smiles for rewards
that lightened our hearts
and turned our appetites
toward fellowship
and the nurturing of spirits.
Spirits I could always find
in the real world of fashioning
rum balls soaked in rum
or bejeweled fruit cakes
fuming in their gauze diapers
awash with fine brandies
and Christmas sugar cookies
fully warm, but frosted
in green and red and sparkles;
each delightful bite
transferring the shine to our eye.
Christmas tables fully laden
a world where roasted golden turkey
is king of the family feast
and delicious gravy slathers on potatoes
and cranberries are crushed in
their own white porcelain bowl.
On the side, an ambrosia salad
newly made with fresh fruits
and dollops of cream
and fine shaved coconut,
hot rolls so sweet
like portage bread
dripping with butter
and my mouth
watering, more at
the sight than the flavors.
Daddy always boiled chestnuts.
We opened them and ate
the fresh meat together.
It was the best of days
with the hand embroidered
table cloth, the tinkling china,
the silverest silver, ever...
rested at elbow for service;
my fork posed ready to spear
into thick moist white meat.
After or sometimes before
a Christmas breakfast or dinner,
the elegant "Christmas Tree"
sparkling and glowing
with it's ancient ornaments and tinsel!
And lights!
Beckoning, oh so comely how,
we celebrate thee sweet Jesus
and our Lord the Christ...
opening salvations gifts.
It was not the gift,
it was the giving:
the socks and the underwear
five years of towels,
because we needed them,
and mother got her almond rocca.
It was the laughter
and the Christmas carols
and the hot cider
for the entire day
and the love felt
for the whole day.
Eventide, we were done
that was our tradition.
We put Jesus away
Packed up Mary and Joseph
laid then all to rest
in their sacred box
until next Christmas.
Our Christmas holiday
I remember Joe and Glee,
Exeter dairy farmers,
my Mom and Dad,
and continue
to celebrate Christmas
in my heart.
