Day-After-Christmas-Poem

I had a calm and lazy Christmas this year. Spent most of my time in the kitchen, baking cookies on cookies and later watching "Miracle on 34th Street" (my favorite). This year felt pretty different for me. For a lot of reasons. But it was filled with food and family nonetheless, so it made everyone pretty happy. Santa even left us a limerick (complete with a few swear words and a colorful illustration), so all the old traditions were upheld. We're leaving for Idaho in a couple days to spend time with more family, more food, puzzles, wood-burning fireplaces and hopefully a little more snow.

Now, here's a Day-After-Christmas-Poem.

Kitchen Window, Morning 

The birds fly to my window,

bruising bodies with glass,

bruising glass with their bodies.

The halved apples in the feeder

are sealed in ice and snow,

so I know why they’ve had enough.

It’s like listening to a mixtape

but the tape’s strung out and dusty,

so all you hear are thuds and cold crunching

and the wheels aren’t turning anymore.

So I look at the birch trees instead,

laying white upon white,

birch, snow, black spot, bark.

Like soldiers hiding in a ditch,

black upon black,

barbed, bullet hole, blast.

But the birds in their feathers

aren’t hiding from me,

or this air drunk on gravity.

They just keep crashing

towards my window,

wings open like paper unfolded

and with God beneath them,

shedding reflections
wild, in cold glass.

Oh and also...a song that reminds me so much of this time of year. And especially of my adventures in Helsinki with one of my best friends two January's ago.

- K