at night we hang the balls
precise
to fill in color that the gaps
need most.
and always I adorn
the tree
with ornaments just at the edge
hanging very low
and clustered much too close
–
come morning and I see
the tree
with all my work shifted around
and changed!
and hanging up, and in, and down
precise.
I pout in secret silence
nursing wounded child-pride
but the tree—is stunning
–
indignant I confront
my mom
and ask just what she means
shifting
all my careful work around.
Gentle,
She shows me how
The ornaments should
Hang to fill the tree.
–
And now I hang the balls
The way
my mother always did, and even ask,
occasional,
how she would hang them best.
She smiles,
and deftly points, and hangs,
and shows me how to fill the tree.
melenoria 
For some reason, I find myself laughing aloud at this one, particularly the lines, “with ornaments just at the edge / hanging very low / and clustered much too close.” It’s just a delightful mental image, and the wording catches the childlike vibe perfectly. I really, really love it. I might need this one framed. You should find someone who would illuminate some of your poetry and then sell prints!
NM
Nick Mauer
Pastor of Outreach & Discipleship
Calvary Baptist Church | calvarybaptistmd.org
P: 410.635.2800
C: 240.620.3234
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Thank you! It was for my Mom for Christmas. My goal was to write a poem for each member of the family.
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