Sitting beside the Christmas tree.
The only lights on are the ones on
it. So it’s dim in the living room—
no creatures stirring, we don’t
have any mice. I want to stay up,
but I’m fading fast…. Some Santa
I’d make. Coffee, maybe? Just for
the graveyard shift. Stay up all
night, handing out toys and flying
across the world. Don’t be
confused; my wife is no Mrs. Claus.
She wants me to come to bed. But
I want a moment to myself—a
moment of Tannenbaum, breathing
in the sweet, sweet scent of fir, and
with it a little Joy, wonder and peace.