Saturday, December 25, 2010
A Christmas Walk
A Christmas Walk
The Creek
The water, ruffling outward from the banks:
wanton patterns in a repeated dance.
Stone hieroglyphics lining the bottom:
ready to speak to any discerning observer.
The smell of winter grass and barren shrubs
in the wooded section nearby.
Returning
Demure stone mosaics filling rectangles and
squares: sidewalk plots where flowers once flourished.
Stores with eyes shut tight:
holiday.
Arriving
In the outer lobby:
suddenly the milky smell
of my mother’s hand lotion (Jergen's),
so long ago.
The Santa doll
suspended on my neighbor’s door downstairs:
red gown, tousled white hair and twirling beard.
The elevator ascending: masculine scent of
woodsmoke and tweeds.
Home
The friendly warmth of welcome:
The mountains in the distance
shouldering the sky
against the dying sun.
Dorothy Walters
December 25, 2010
