Merry Christmas

it is nothing short of a dream
to sit by my christmas tree
cup of coffee in hand
staring out the window
fascinated by the blanketing silence
as mother nature shakes her snow globe
and its ability to slow time
my mind wanders
to the mean old man across the street
and i find myself hoping
his feet are warm
as mine are not
perhaps it’s the christmas spirit
or the spirit of my mother
on the anniversary of her last breath
reminding me
even the coldest souls
deserve to be warm
and as i allow my eyes
to roam
the picture perfect post-card
of trees
and white
and swirls of gray smoke
from old brick chimney’s
i can’t help but smile
for this must be the feeling
the soul felt
when it first uttered
“Merry Christmas.”