My “village” wears a shawl of winter snow,
Yet folks return each year to take their place,
And lighting from within the homes we know,
Create an air of warmth and welcoming space.
”T was only hours ago they lay in crates,
Securely stored to spend the warmer climes,
Anticipating joy on grandson’s face
that lights, when thoughts of Christmas come to mind.
‘Til finally, we face the attic climb,
Retrieving well-stacked cartons, to unpack
together reawak’ning joyous times,
By setting up the village railroad tracks.
Suspending disbelief, we gaze and dream,
As, hand in hand, we join the festive scene.
photo Friday: #night