A storm ended the wildfires;
a forgiving winter, indeed.
Our coats and hats hang together
like invisible house guests.
A 21 lb. turkey for four people?
It was so big
we had to store the carcass in a trash bag
to make the soup the next morning.
And we did.
We cooked all weekend together
like Old Philadelphia.
David kicked back on the back deck by the fire pit,
drinking red bourbon at 4 in the afternoon.
Mom admired him from the kitchen window.
She loves that kitchen window.
I sat with a smile and my digital journal
bathing in the big blue glow of the computer screen.
A bug crawled across the keys of the laptop—
from A to S, so I started this poem
with an A and an S.
David opening that beautiful bottle of Black Tie Charlie;
the one we brought back from Wine Country in June.
And why not?
Knowing that one day, this rich and charitable house
on this lovely little moon lit lot
will no longer host our gatherings.
After all, we’re all just a car crash away
from missing the next cycle of life’s celebrations.
we made it to this one,
and we made it a good one.
Poem by Ryan Anarchy
Inspired by the holidays