December
I was the snowball,
rounded, packed, and flung,
with a hoot.
I was the white icing
on the piney tree,
the bite in the frost.
I was the Santa
sliding down chimneys
on Christmas Eve.
I was the child,
bursting forth at first light,
shaking stockings out.
I was the gingerbread man,
running out of the oven,
the slip on black ice.
I was the tinkle of bells
and faraway hymns
known by heart.
The year hushed
to a halt. Someone
had turned off the tree lights.
The calm in the quiet
woke me, and in the darkness,
I remembered to give thanks for it all.
rounded, packed, and flung,
with a hoot.
I was the white icing
on the piney tree,
the bite in the frost.
I was the Santa
sliding down chimneys
on Christmas Eve.
I was the child,
bursting forth at first light,
shaking stockings out.
I was the gingerbread man,
running out of the oven,
the slip on black ice.
I was the tinkle of bells
and faraway hymns
known by heart.
The year hushed
to a halt. Someone
had turned off the tree lights.
The calm in the quiet
woke me, and in the darkness,
I remembered to give thanks for it all.
This poem is copyright (©) Mona Woods Voelkel 2024
About the Writer
Mona Woods Voelkel
As a Reading Specialist with over 20 years’ experience in the Bronx, Brooklyn and Valhalla, NY, Mona believes that poetry is magic. When poetry is part of a child’s day the words, pictures, and rhythms seep in and stay forever. As a writer, her plays have been staged locally and she is currently writing children’s poetry and picture books. Mona loves to spend time with friends, run along the Hudson River and paddle-board on Green Hill Pond in Rhode Island.
