she asks me what
I want for Christmas
in the laundry sorting clothes while
a summer straight down rain begins
raging warm daring December
to remember with a thunder
of married fronts against the cold
Â
she folds her panties perfect
jeans soft creased beside colors of
neat cami tanks and tees as
I match my socks and pull the
pullovers over in slow rhythm
to Guaraldi from the great room
as she looks my way for answer
Â
her eyes winter magnolia green
that perfect stripe of silver
from root to shoulder curl
subtle exhales of eucalyptus
pleating delicate from her bath
into the dryer heated ether
tumbling as it has for years
Â
giving pajama bottoms
oven fresh with a bit of charge
as we change from waist to toe
in the middle of a Sunday
in the middle of a storm’s
sushing and rumble into flannel
white with snowflake, green with pine
Â
she asks me what
I want for Christmas
and I fall spellbound silent
soaking and spinning and
hanging on a line in a moment
without need
or notion
1. Title photo by Author.
© Copyright William Hazel, 2023