Christmas Day

Christmas Day dawned mild and clear
And I though about the wind still blowing.

The trees on Christmas Day shook
Their empty heads, no more leaves to fall,
And clouds rushed across the blue
Impatient shreds of nothing,
Orange against the sky.

And I thought about
All the lonely people
And the origins of solitude;

I thought about celebration
And its many faces,
The feast, its sharing
And the sleep it brings;

I thought about time
And how it moves ahead
Even when hands
Try to hold it back.

This dawning day with its red
Dimming clouds and the sun rising,
The wind easing from yesterday,
Is a day, the only day,
A day like any other.

The trees look no different;
The light from heaven is bright.

And the entire world
Gives no hint of effort
Nor of a moment arriving,
So precious, it must be
Made perfect, made secure,
Time frozen in its track.

Christmas Day can come tomorrow
Despite its appointed time,
Its name, its juncture,
Any day may be deferred.

Elsewhere, indulgence passes over,
Like ragged clouds under sky.

Today is always today:
Present and sufficient.

© BH, 2016

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We had Christmas a day late. As it happens. Away from the feeding frenzy, it’s just a day. The celebration, when it happens, though, is its own reward.