dirt on the welcome mat

Tag Archives: family

The shivering hay

in that winter field

made the air crackle

like a rain stick,

like it used to

when my grandpaw

slid the sound storm

between his hands.

I twirled it too

and felt the sparks

through the gray wood,

through the cold hay

in the bright echo

of early winter.

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One winding tree branch,

Like a large solid snake,

Sits by the road,

Terrifying muddy tires

With its sharp, splintered,

Two-pronged tongue.

Separated forever,

Ripped from the family tree

By its rebellious breakaway

During a storm’s distraction,

It becomes as Nebuchadnezzar,

Eating grass and finding claws

To grip the earth.


Pass the plate of memories

Down the table, please,

I’d like to fill my plate

With something warm.

And send some of

Your fresh stories my way,

Since you season them

So well with humor.

I loved your new dish of family plans,

And the casserole

Summarizing the past year

Was really enjoyable.

This conversation meal

Was the best our family’s had-

I’ll meet you in the kitchen

For some recipes.


Like the ghosts of the

Past,

Present

And future,

Forgotten family members

From the most obscure branches of my family tree

Play a festive trivia game with me each Christmas season,

Haunting my mind at our family reunion

With unflattering childhood quips and quotes,

Demanding detailed descriptions

About my current college status,

And throwing fact after detailed fact into my

“Why studying to be an English teacher

Is the worst decision of my life” wastebasket.

Waking up the next morning,

Like the famous Ebenezer Scrooge,

I sling open the blinds and breathe a sigh,

Thankful for the gift of family

And a whole year to prepare for their next present.