Jane’s Annual Poems, 1973-2021

 1977

THE SECOND OF JANUARY, 1977

We untrim,
store bulbs in the autumn of the season,
unwind golden garlands, tear silver tinsel,
box the ribbons; wrap the crèche—the reason--
turn the key of the silent night
music box one more reverential time;
save poinsettias to a kinder light.
 
We resolve.
It is 10 below but we have hopes for
spring after ritual; plans for summer, fall;
we dream of western trout and slopes.
We bag the tree and haul it to the bank,
sweep needles, arrange the chairs the same
as if last Christmas never came.
 
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