aurora’s fire
brings day of recovery
from Christmas chaos
rolled in this meringue:
apples, mascarpone cream,
burnt honey. ’20.
baked in this Roulade:
my student’s home-raised hen eggs
ready to be whipped
folded in this bake:
some precious moments of peace
so hard sought, well earned
masked in this meringue:
a year of bittersweet loss
melted into joy
White Elephant win
with every Bingo chiste
bringing laughter, joy
they’re all grown up now
even their cookies have grown
in their perfection
he’s no idea
what he’s got himself into
with these crazy girls
cookies are cookies.
we will cut, bake, decorate.
’cause it’s what we do.
arms, metal, ginger:
what is a holiday scent?
molasses. that’s it.
and soft-spun sugar
ready to perfect Christmas
with gingerbread sweets.
ice-cold Tuesday night
(ice skating on a weeknight?)
icing on the cake
we must stay outside
we must wear masks, be cautious
we must learn to live
all out of the house?
all the teens out together?
all the miracles
the boy taught himself
the boy had never skated
my boy taught himself
some rough beginnings
can end in the perfect way
for a perfect day
Almost a year ago, we invited this boy home for Christmas because he was living in a youth shelter.
We brought him downtown to see this beautiful tree.
And what a year it has been. Challenging in more ways than we ever thought imaginable, and all of us adjusting to this new life of having a brother and a son in the midst of a pandemic.
Here we are, standing under these same lights. And aren’t they still beautiful?
my little artist
(not so little anymore)
always new designs
creating Christmas
from the tree to ornaments
all hand-made with love
hidden behind mask
is my sixteen-year-old girl
(her pandemic grin)
i hope to win her
with walks, drives, conversations
just like the old days
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