Yesterday was for unpacking
Christmas decorations and memories.
They’re tumbled into a basket beneath the tree
all those floppy beanbag animals who, one by one,
had their morning to peek from the tops of stockings.
One stuffed reindeer watches now, a quizzical expression
stitched onto his felt face. Any minute
I expect him to step forward,
chosen spokesman for the crowd of puzzled penguins,
snowmen, elves, and puppies wearing Santa hats
tipped at jaunty angles.
He’s ready to ask aloud, on behalf of the group,
where those kids with the stockings went,
and by the way,
where did these extra grownups come from?
Puff Of Smoke Poems 