is always white, where mule deer shelter
under snow stout boughs of evergreens.
Their ice-nip noses, and frost-tip tails
tuck under bodies of warm winter felt.
Inside a century-old home, tiny pink toes
attached to bright-eyed children gather
together for family folklore.
A fireside plate with crumbles of cookies,
eggnog mustaches turned up in smiles,
a string of fairy-lights reflect
wild fingers unstuffing
of chocolate delights.
Beneath the sparkling fir tree, kitten attacks forgotten
red and green papers, pouncing on ribbons and bows,
batting at silver and gold baubles with holiday glee.
A celebration packed in pagan ecstasy.
And momma and papa wishing time never proceeds.
Marcy S. Wood, MA, loves hiking and yoga. She lives in Ouray, CO and began working remotely before it became a thing. Her poetry was nominated for the AWP Intro Journals Project in 2022. Other literary works are debuting internationally at “I Become the Beast,” and this fall at “Rat’s Ass Review.” Her work is considered bold and authentic. She writes with a wooly Bern-Newfie at her feet.