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12/06/10 - (2)
Christmas Lights
What else might two romantics conceivably do, Three weeks prior to Christmas, On a snow-spitting night slipping into the mid-twenties...
What else, indeed, other than take an after-dinner drive Deep into the endlessly unfolding western suburbs Where the majority of the city's largest houses dwell,
Vying, with each other, this sacred time of the Christian year, To boast the most ornately decorated facades and yards, The costliest, most innovative, over-the-top light displays?
As we navigate winding Conway, Ladue, and Mason roads, Slowing to a millipede's creep, a tortoise's lumbering crawl, stall, To "ooh" and "wow," "oh, my God" and "ahh,"
Over the dazzlingly flashing, blinking, and twinkling scintillas Scattering magical hues far into the universe, We become part of the dynamic electricity illuminating the air.
For more than a giddy, jubilant, hand-squeezing hour, We cruise through affluent subdivision after cul-de-sac enclave, Assimilating the holiday excitement, sensing the holy advent,
Before weaving, wending, finally finding our way home, To our warm abode, tucked snugly in moonless shadows, The two of us lovers craving each other's embrace.
Once in bed, our heads resting on side-by-side pillows, We navigate the second passage of the evening, This time, to our seasons of parenthood, three decades ago,
When we, too, shared in the rituals of decorating — Eaves, dormers, porches, trees, shrubs, fences, windows — Fancying ourselves guardians of the holiday's heritage,
Until sleep leads us into its endlessly unfolding purlieus, Where dreams drip with liquid-luminescent lights That invite smiles to join us, beneath our closed eyelids.
12/06/10 - (2)
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