but they are mostly dated and filled
with words like thine and o’er and behold.
And yes, I do want something about the snow,
and the light as it falls on the snow,
but I could do without the angels today,
or anything unreachable that’s supposed to be
looking out for us down here. And yes, I do
want something about the trees, both outside
and inside, and about the singing, and about
the laying out of the table, or the looping
of ribbons, or the tucking in of children. But
I’m wishing we could leave God out of it.
It’s not God’s job to hang out with us right now
and fix things. I want something that uses
filling stockings as a metaphor for choosing
small kindnesses to tuck into each person’s
heart. Something that reminds us that the horse
knows the way, so if we could just find that horse
and hold on, we’ll come out of all this OK.
Something that, yes, is filled with the glistening
and the sparkling and all things aglow, because
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky—
Yes, that’s the kind of thing I want, all of us
outrunning the storm that’s pushing us out of the year,
and we’re climbing right over the tired pile of reindeer
to what’s really up there for us. The snow coming
down. The way we shape it with our hands and throw.
By Brittney Corrigan
Previously Published in Rattle, December 2017