by Whitnie Kramer

Festive tablecloth, green red and gold, poinsettias
Watered and vased brightening the spread, bacon
And lots of it spreading the wonderful smell, ham
Being pulled out of the oven, grandma’s smile
Greets you like it has been forever,

Coming through the front door now orange juice,
By the gallon, along with the winter breeze. Door slams
And wakes the sleeping old man in the chair, Grandpa
Entertains the children while the women continue to prepare,
And chat about morning events, in the kitchen
Packed like sardines

The door opens again tall man carrying the treat of the morning,
German pancakes. Children sent across the street
To get the special ingredient, homemade syrup drips off
Childs’ hands and faces as they return, yum! Placed carefully
Next to silverware and plates only used on this occasion,
Usually, TIME TO EAT! Line up all through the house

Volume calms and shortly rises again, almost unbearable,
Dishes cover the counters. The mess is gone quickly,
Almost instantly, children getting impatient
Finally it is time for gifts, children giving them by tag,
Hundreds, at least,

But more than that everyone is here, for a moment, together
On Christmas morning