The flicker of the fire
accompanied by the light
from the Christmas tree,
engulfed the room like a glove,
and softly outside fell the snow
as the children sat near their presents.

The crumpled paper from unwrapped presents
shines and glimmers from the family fire.
Loud plows drive by churning the white snow.
Across the way, small houses can be seen but only because of window light.
Small hooks by the door hold a wet tattered glove,
while "Baby’s First Christmas" hangs quietly in the tree.

The menorah sat in the window looking at the befriended tree,
and the tree gazed back at it. To children they meant the same thing, presents.
Upon the rug sat a red truck, and a single glove.
Of course other toys sat brand new, & unwrapped, but the boy
was mesmerized by the fire.
The flame, new to the log, grew and flared in a dance of light.
The harsh weather had slowed and the world was covered in snow.

Cavities in this world were warm and devoid of snow.
Outside, cold snow covered the ground, each house, and each tree,
but inside the snow’s cavities, in each home, was light.
In all these houses filled with celebrating and thought filled presents,
began the search for batteries as attention turned away from the fire,
the amusement and leisure of electronics more enticing than the new
hand warming glove.

Soon, however, someone will wear this glove.
Soon the wind will not blow the snow.
Each time the children pass they take note of the dying fire.
Flame will be blown out and plug pulled as goodbyes are exchanged between the menorah and the tree.
The clutter of the floor will be cleared as storage and use is found for the presents.
A couple houses on the street have already turned off their light.

Shortly all the homes ended their session of light.
With its partner and in patient wait, hung the glove.
Away and filled with batteries lay the presents.
Still and peaceful has become the world of snow.
In the dark in wait for morning sits the tree.
And the logs were left black from where once danced the fire.

The presents rested a world apart from the snow.
The glove waited for use in the oncoming light,

And the tree alone held a quiet funeral for the fire.