Well before dawn, like a greedy child, old body
Wakes up too early and will not go back to sleep.
Might as well pad into the front room and glance
In passing at the fake, small, glowing tree
In the dark, several presents beneath. Get a drink
Of water from the tap. Return to the bedroom
To read. Outside and below the window, street lights
Scatter out into the distance like fallen constellations.
Beneath them, black pavement glistens with faint rain.
Welcome Christmas. Everything begins again.
The late daylight slips in, a kittenish gray,
Fuzzing the foreground and obscuring the ridges
Of far away. Daughter calls at half past eight
From her grandparents’ home in the unseen
Narrow canyon underneath cloud-hidden cliffs.
She’s bored and sad and can’t unwrap presents yet,
Not until mother comes back from wherever
Mother went. She’s also sad she didn’t get a cat.
When are you coming to get me? she asks.
There’s a family dinner planned, at sunset in the canyon.
She can come back here to this balcony after that, then.
Welcome Christmas. Presence the best present then.
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