Carolers
An old tradition brings joy and surprise in a snow-bound city.
Carolers
Plumber's candles lit our way
through whipped cream snowy streets.
Lights glowed dusky red against clouds
dropping feathery flakes upon our heads.
Most folks were surprised to hear us sing.
Suspicious children peeked around their doors.
Our carols echoed off brick and stone facades.
A driver snarled as we gathered around his car.
Then, an ancient woman, no bigger than a child,
bare of shawl or robe, shivered on her porch.
She clapped her gnarled hands and bounced
upon her brittle toes and whispered each refrain.
Weeping as Norma hugged her close
beneath her coat, the woman caught,
for one breathless silent moment,
a long-ago memory not quite gone.
A lovely Christmas poem.
It was just a nicer world. People cared. I would go caroling, and other groups would stop by our house. I think 250 channels of 24/7 TV killed almost everything people used to do in the evening. That and city living. When i lived in rural Northern MN i loved taking a walk at night in winter when the moon was as least half full. No lights needed. On my parents 60 acres the family had cut and maintained 3 miles of paths. Half mile along the Whiteface River. We had a 7 acre beaver pond. The dam was 220 feet long. On a summers eve I would sometimes go out and pull a branch out of the dam, then go sit quietly about 10 feet away. Usually it was no more than 15 minutes before a couple of beaver would show up and fix the small leak in the dam.