Friday After Thanksgiving

My dad scampers up the shed ladder
            to Christmas,
      the tree, the lights, my joy
      stashed in a drafty loft.
       He tiptoes down the
      the bulky box
      between his arms
the tree in pieces
      My dad lumbers to my
house with his boots trailing
      behind with evidence that
Christmas is moving
      across my

Through the 3rd Eye was supported in its inception by the Grand Rapids Humanities Council and is currently made possible by continued volunteer effort and private support. Copyright 2013.