The plates are not yet clean from the feast
And yet the great preparation commences.
The bite in the air portends
The advent, the beginning.
My heart feels dull and strands of worry
Cloud my waking.
Too much, it’s too much to contemplate
How to ready my house, my heart?
I feel no flair yet, no novel approach
To set the scene for the stable,
The semblance of security, the safety of home.
Snow today – steady, small bits
Accumulating no mass as yet.
When I was a little girl I made the mistake
Of connecting magic to snow.
Absent white flakes I believed
The beauty of the advent was wanting,
And I wanted, I wanted.
Furious activity –
Frantic airport runs and post office lines.
Time eludes to think or contemplate or
Wonder at the wonder,
Tomorrow, later, after pageant,
Time to wait again will come,
Time to revel in all that is and will be.
Quiet now, the early morning air holds
All the promise we have sought.
What is done is done, and
What is not will have to be forgotten.
It won’t matter in the end.
Faces will light and lighten.
And I will sing my hymn,
My praise song
For the silence, the peace, the glory
Of this moment and the earth.