world glows from
behind white twinkle lights.
snow doesn’t fall until
just after christmas.
but–
even the lights make do
with the damp, the south.
we’ve never lived
in a perfect currier&ives land
just this place
of yellow dried grass
and brown-bare evergreens.
but–
mary didn’t live
amongst the satin-silked.
perhaps, the stable
wasn’t her perfect delivery room–
it wouldn’t be mine–
yet, when time and need
collided and said:
“NOW!”
perfect was asked
to leave.