No Hidden Meaning (Just Snow)
Eastern Pennsylvania morphs from crimson and golds to
stark
Bare branches scrape gray skies
Wreaths in ribbon red adorn front doors
Rooms decked in evergreen crackle with lit fireplaces and
children’s laughter
Plenty of merry, merry greetings and mistletoe kisses
signal the season
Careful cookies and milk preparation, then footie-pajama
kids tucked into bed
Awakened by the glistening reflective gleam, eye
squinting, purest white Christmas
(a writer friend introduced our group to "parashots" - not a poem, not a paragraph, more of a short screenshot of a scene. Many of the examples she gave were autobiographical. I was thinking about waking up as a kid (especially on Christmas morning) and KNOWING it snowed. Before you hopped out of bed, the light shining through curtains was blindingly bright...like the gleam of a million halos or something otherworldly)
