Frantic haste is not existent here

The chickadees make their presence clear

A silent flurry dresses the frozen ground

The pines’ fragile needles 

coated with a confectious storm  

Sea soaked pebbles eroded by lapping waves

The coast, an eagle’s feather, lengthy ,broad, and staggered 

Muddy banks studded with brittle reeds 

Potholed drives varnished with a thin verglas

Inside the home

Crimson flames rage within the hearth

Oak wood kindling piled by the bricks

Rabbit hide coats strewn on couch arms 

My grandmother and I hunched over a jigsaw puzzle like hermits praying in a rural forest 

The oven lays ajar 

Flannel towel draped on the granite counters

I heed the call of food downstairs

Freshly baked cheoreg beckon to my hunger

A doughy braid weaved thousands of times by my grandfather’s warm worn Armenian hands

The lodge is awake with the passion of compassion

A plaza for festive bustle

A celebration of togetherness

Gathered round the Christmas tree