Night has long since fallen
Without a moon
To lend its light
To the heavily frosted
Nativity scene
And the pine trees
Swaying gently in
The front yard.
The frost encircles
The outside of the windows,
Adding a gentle glow
To the twinkling,
Multi-colored lights
Hanging just inside
The glass,
And framing my children
Watching anxiously
Through the dark
For the faintest glimpse
of a sleigh drawn
By reindeer.
In the American south
There is rarely
A white Christmas,
But the glint of frost
Can create an illusion
Befitting
A Currier and Ives print,
At least to the little ones
Who would otherwise worry
How on earth Santa could ever
Land that sleigh
On bare brown grass.
A Charlie Brown Christmas
Plays forgotten
On the DVD player,
While the dog snores
From her bed
Beside me
On the couch,
And the cat naps,
Purring,
Atop the heat register
On the floor.
Maybe we don't have
The traditional outdoor setting
Of, say, upstate New York,
But we share
The same nostalgia,
The same memories
Of Christmases past,
When we,
As children,
Watched from the windows
For our glimpse
Of magic.

c. 2019