Happy Christmas.

As there is a dusting of snow,
there is still belief in a man's heart
early Christmas morning.

It is 4:30.  I pour coffee and,
not knowing their religious preference,
wish the cats a happy holiday.

They appear agitated, and I fear they think
I'm waging a war on Christmas so I quickly
change my greeting, adding a scratch

behind the ears for good measure.
They seem pleased, especially when
I realize the food bowl is empty.

My son will be up soon,
full of sleepy enthusiasm, hope.
I turn on the soft red lights,

catch a hint of pine,
and settle into the quiet.
I want to be ready.

Four Foot Something

My wife drops him off early
once a month for student council.

As a third grader, it's his first year
being actively involved.

There is a bit of importance
about him now.  He walks taller.

Even so, as my wife describes it,
when he arrives at school

and enters the near empty hall
he looks very small.

I can see him there
4 foot something and proud,

as the eastern horizon
turns itself to a brilliant blue,

he walks headlong
into the day's responsibilities.

Stood Up

In the cloud filled afternoon,
it feels as if the day never arrived,
as if I'd scheduled a meeting
only to be left sitting
at a table by the window
checking my watch in the half light,
spinning the ice around
my half empty glass.

Suggestions

I have scraped
my windshield
several mornings
consecutively.

Often there is frost
on my lawn as well,
which our cats find
problematic.

Before the snow arrives
there are suggestions
we should dig out
sweaters and shovels.