No tree this year- rain slashes the back door, a neighbor's string of lights fly against
her window, beginning the season
there will be candles, and music
there will be no gifts
there will be a feast, a crowd, many hungers, a few arguments, new babies.
Christmas, we will make it together, from whatever we can manage
some of us scraping for that cup of goodwill, some of us
rushing to buy it on sale
sharing as best we can the deep-colored complexity
of a family holiday, of winter's birth and our twinkling stand
against the early darkness.
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