I remember the glorious ubiquity of Christmas wax stencils
in red and green and convincing aerosol snow
even on the storefront glass of the car lots
crepe paper rose red honey combed bells hung from classroom ceilings, the chiming of hand bell carols we played at the assemblies and
department store windows beyond compare
we were glued to the scenes peering into their tableaux vivants
(we thought) of fairy land.
I remember when even wrapping paper in the drugstore
bound in rolls of Christmas sheen signified opulently the
implication unmistakeable of PRESENTS!
we would receive or give, what would they be?
and all that glee from the mystery
at times a candlelit feeling inside
and how I could never make believable bows
from the cardboard spooled ribbon
but no one ever minded. and
brazil nuts cascading out of stockings,
sugarplums in our heads (what were sugarplums)
oranges beyond orange itself and peppermint sticks,
milk chocolate wrapped as golden coins in foil,
in little bags of net
and wondering wondering while flinging
icicles randomly
what will the dolls look like this time
and will they come with extra outfits?
and the excitement of books new minted
rose coloured socks, a Mickey Mouse watch
my Grandfather's face passing out packages
and calling our names like he was
calling us into the Heavenly feast and
our intrepid yet fluffy dog atop the piled high bliss of
unwrapped wrappings, flouncing around in these
as if they were autumn leaves,
the puppy queen of Christmas.
the nativity in the front window
and kneeling near the pine fragrance
under the tree as close as we could be
wanting never to leave
forever and ever
as though we could be Christmas birds
in the boughs, no longer merely children
in the vast and snowy air,
breathing starlight.
mary angela douglas 26 october 2017
in red and green and convincing aerosol snow
even on the storefront glass of the car lots
crepe paper rose red honey combed bells hung from classroom ceilings, the chiming of hand bell carols we played at the assemblies and
department store windows beyond compare
we were glued to the scenes peering into their tableaux vivants
(we thought) of fairy land.
I remember when even wrapping paper in the drugstore
bound in rolls of Christmas sheen signified opulently the
implication unmistakeable of PRESENTS!
we would receive or give, what would they be?
and all that glee from the mystery
at times a candlelit feeling inside
and how I could never make believable bows
from the cardboard spooled ribbon
but no one ever minded. and
brazil nuts cascading out of stockings,
sugarplums in our heads (what were sugarplums)
oranges beyond orange itself and peppermint sticks,
milk chocolate wrapped as golden coins in foil,
in little bags of net
and wondering wondering while flinging
icicles randomly
what will the dolls look like this time
and will they come with extra outfits?
and the excitement of books new minted
rose coloured socks, a Mickey Mouse watch
my Grandfather's face passing out packages
and calling our names like he was
calling us into the Heavenly feast and
our intrepid yet fluffy dog atop the piled high bliss of
unwrapped wrappings, flouncing around in these
as if they were autumn leaves,
the puppy queen of Christmas.
the nativity in the front window
and kneeling near the pine fragrance
under the tree as close as we could be
wanting never to leave
forever and ever
as though we could be Christmas birds
in the boughs, no longer merely children
in the vast and snowy air,
breathing starlight.
mary angela douglas 26 october 2017
