It's colder than predicted
the mothering heat of the kitchen,
of once-a-year ingredients
and the waltzing scents
of nutmeg and ginger.
From the rooftop,
icicles hang down like
December fingers easing into view,
as excited as children underfoot
to collect sweet and gooey batter
from mixing bowls full
of doubled recipes and grandparent traditions.
for the same sensations
craved when they
were half our age and we wander,
walking over bridges
to dinner tables
full of welcome,
it's colder than expected
it's Christmas-cookie warm,
hearts rising from decades-ago burns
on the pages of old cookbooks.
by Bryan Borland from SHAKE: The Poetry of Bryan Borland.
Thanks, Bryan, for taking part in our Twelve Days of Poetry Project! Merry Christmas to you.