Winter

Vacant tree branches

save for the cedars and pines

First snow long gone

Fresh baked cookies

raw dough in my stomach

My Nana's house has

become the North Pole

in appearance

My own house has

become the North Pole

in temperature

Plump tree in the living room

Might be the last real one

in the world

Unwrapped presents

waiting in Boscov's bags

For Santa to wrap them up

And the days of clarinet playing

lips chapped and destroyed

from reeds and cold air

long gone now

No more concerts

no more shows

or practices

Don't know whether I

should be smiling

or reminiscing

Maybe both

Decorations are put up

shopping is done

Free time

is precious


And now,

we write.