My holiday shelf

It is cold and colder around here in Northeast Ohio, with snow and freezing rain-must be December. On Thanksgiving and the day after at my daughter’s home not far from Lake Erie, there was plenty of snow for the first snowman of the year. My grandsons were thrilled. I don’t drive anymore, so after my son-in-law drove me home away from the white stuff that day, when it snows again where I live, I am free to admire its beauty.

There is the anticipation of continuing holidays in the air. For me, there is a touch of nostalgia from my own childhood to that of our family when my daughters were young. Above, is a photo of my holiday shelf, minus the tiny menorah soon to join the lights. We acknowledge the cosmic approach of the solstice, and we have lighted candles against the dark since ancient times. May we all invest in the hope that the New Year will start bringing us closer to returning light to the darkness of our world. There is no timeline on achieving this, unfortunately. But I cannot afford despair and wish to contribute lightness within my own small circle of family, friends, and neighbors.

I wrote this poem in February of 2025, already foreshadowing the contrast of the beauty of the world outside my window to the ugliness of what was to come.

Predictably Unpredictable Weather   2/16/25

Today the snow fell as temperatures dropped

without yesterday’s warm permission.

It is pretty.

It is soft.

It is quiet.

It draws birds back to my feeder.

Bluebirds return to fallen seeds below.

Everywhere the ground reflects light dimmed

by clouds releasing their crystalline burdens

onto black branches underlining every snow-capped twig.

Reading signs to reveal the future is

a predictable habit, though

hard to break.

Hearts and dreams are so unpredictably broken.

Hawk landing on my bird feeder