November Hush

November hush, colorful castoffs sleep —
their dreams fade, interlocked on a hard mattress.

Soft, pristine descent of tiny-winged angels always come.

Gray time is swept up in these prolonged nights,
resisting the allure to outlast that twelfth chime.

Memories cascade, as serenading symphony comes:

her holiday confections, risen in oven, whisper
to a soft nose, cuddled in hand-me-downs.

As decorations ascend, presents find their shrouds.
Music wanders about a quiet truce in our home.

A temporal refuge is our last respite.
Time to unwind and be present, be family tonight.
Thanksgiving's embrace was a feast tradition,
in comfort food reveled with kinship extended.

Trapped in a snow globe of nostalgia,
drugstore magic orbs hypnotize a lad, gazing
scenes imagined within, with wishes to have.

Beneath that next tinsel-draped tree, a haven
of stick-sap and dreams co-mingling I’d see.

My face pressed to cardboard nativity, observes
wise men, gentle sheep and cow, the humble manger
and a solitary bulb — lowly, humble star —
celestial guide warming my tiny dreams, now afar.


23 lines, free verse