no snow yet this year —
the cold moon looks for a place
to reshare her light

"colonial charm"
racist variation on
"nothing to see here"

at last the echo
of our expressions in his —
our boy sounds like ours

I was in a rush
but I've never been able
to remember why

when I was first born
my father worried I might 
be breakable

Boxing Day dinner —
plates full of leftovers and
reheated stories

wondering again
if the last snow storm we saw
was the last we'll see

Santa hat —
collecting smiles from strangers
despite the chaos

quiet in the house —
just the tick of pine needles
falling off the tree