Yesterday I visited my friends at Charles House and we talked Christmas poetry. I read them my favorites, e. e. cummings’ little tree and Jane Kenyon’s Taking Down the Tree and, of course, A Visit from St. Nicholas, which just about everybody remembers and read along with me. Then we wrote our own Christmas poem which I present here.
We drag a little cardboard suitcase
down from the attic smelling its age
Like sweet potatoes pulled raw from the earth
we collect tiny bulbs on twisted strings
untangling roots from darkened gems