children who fuss after the candy cane is gone,
children who fuss because the candy cane isn’t enough.
as a grown-up, i rail against their childishness:
why can’t you just be happy with the d.a.m.n. candy cane?
why must you lose the joy so quickly?
then, on cue, i catch my reflection
in them, that holy of holies.
why can’t i just be happy with my grown-up version of candy canes?
i’m thrilled i got the christmas backpacks ordered,
but why is the laundry again spilling off the countertops?
this christmas thing sure is fun,
but why am i in an interior battle about
not building a mario scene right in the middle of the christmas tree?
why do i lose the joy so quickly?
this season, i’ll be quiet,
aiming to recover the joy.
to meet myself in the Holy of Holies
& reclaim the joy i tend
to keep spilling off the countertop.
you’ll excuse me if i’m scarce here?