One day, we gather around the fire,
Eat and sip warm drinks
in thanks for all we have.
The next day, as if to purge ourselves
of any of the warmth of hearth and home.
We awake before dawn.
We rush into the lines of traffic,
the masses of souls pushing each other.
Complain and wait to stroke our credit cards.
Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah!
The bells and the red kettles beside
smiling, shivering volunteers.
I miss the days my grandma remembered.
Hunting a tree in the pasture,
A stocking with fruit and candy,
Eight candles in the night.
Thinking of why we have so much.
Hoping our children remember that one day.