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Poem written for and submitted to “Snow Fantasy or Christmas Nostalgia” poetry contest, Constance La France, sponsor, December 1, 2025.
“Christmas – that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance – a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.” Augusta E. Rundel Winter drafts crept in, thin and sly, a silver breath through window cracks~ Jack Frost’s graffiti on the panes, furnace’s heat rose up chasing him back. Mother’s kitchen smelled of cinnamon, her oven wafting delicious sugar clouds. Mother’s hands were like an alchemist’s, turning dates to diamonds, figs to jewels adding candied fruits in batter deep~ The brandy seeped through cheesecloth veins, the fruitcake drunk with brandy’s dark desire. Enchanted by her royal presence, I stood before the Christmas tree~ a queen in her green tinseled gown, an angelic tiara in her hair, her ornate jewels catching every light~ and at her feet, six ladies-in-waiting, poinsettias dressed in bright red velvet, kept court beside her every night. Made from a polar bear’s yawn of wool, My snow-white mittens ate my fingers whole~ Father softly hummed Jingle Bells while dancing with me in the town square. Streetlamps blurred into golden halos. My boots cracked the ice, like a clock counting down to Saint Nick’s slow-motion dive from the courthouse roof to the square below. Then—hooves? No. Just the mayor’s truck. Santa’s laugh rang out above carolers’ honeyed voices singing The First Noel. Christmas Eve: the stocking’s gullet spilled peppermint, rhyme, and silver moons. Then came the slice, the waited prize~ a slice of fruitcake steeped in sugared brandy whipped cream melting like Christmas wishes. I wish Christmas could again taste like this.
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