Good morning!
Two weeks ago, I launched this blog and have since decided that I will post consistently every-other-Saturday (with the occasional surprise post in between). There are several larger stories that I hope to begin posting here in the future, and a couple short stories that are in progress, but first I need to go through them and revise them, not to mention finish them. In the future, I will post chapters or bits and pieces of those stories here every couple of weekends, but for the time being, here's a rough attempt at free verse poetry.
December
First.
With
the flip of a switch,
the turn of the calendar,
the
lights flicker on,
bathing the trees in their
golden glow.
The
wind has stilled—
there’s no need for it now,
and
the people gather,
strangers and friends,
drawn by the light.
They
flood the streets and crowd
the sidewalks
watching,
waiting, whispering,
laughing,
Welcoming
the turn of the page.
Cups
of steaming wassail clutched
in sampling hands
float past, tempting, tantalizing.
Drawn
by one vendor, I accept the
offering and inhale the aroma of
spice and fruit.
It’s
hot on my tongue and
wards off the cooling night,
Welcoming
the change of the seasons.
People
weave in and ‘round the Square
They
stroll past vendors and booths,
friends scampering after one
another,
lovers walking arm-in-arm.
Suddenly
my side feels empty and
cold, in opposition to the warmth
of the lights.
I
disappear into the crowd
anonymous, alone,
breathing
in the tang of wassail,
and the heavy sweet scent of
kettle corn.
Crowds
normally overwhelm me,
but not this one—
Not tonight.
Tonight,
despite the noise and sea of people,
there’s a quiet to it all,
a familiarity and a comfort
With
the welcoming of the lights.
At
the corner I pause,
gazing at the Courthouse and
its companions, the trees,
all
clothed in lesser stars.
Horses
and carriages clop past
carrying families.
Children
wave to others,
who dance in the street to the carols,
or who stand atop shoulders to peer
over hatted heads.
Then
I turn and catch sight of
him approaching,
eyes wide as he absorbs the lights.
“I
didn’t expect there to be so many people,”
he says.
He
sees them differently, as individuals,
and that overwhelms him.
He
doesn’t see the unity,
the whole of the crowd as its
own entity with each person
a part of something greater.
He
views it all as separate and
places himself in the midst of
the throng to be jostled
and pulled along.
I
see something altogether
different, and take his hand—
finding my side no longer lonely—
as
though by that connection
he might share my sight.
I
hear the music, the
carols and the jazz and see how
it touches some instantly
but not others.
Those
touched dance where they
stand while others simply stand
still as the columns of the Courthouse.
But
while they may not show it,
the music touches their hearts,
bleeds into them slowly,
Helping
them welcome the night.
The
crowd is vast, yes,
but see how it moves?
Like
currents in an ocean, moving
together, swirling in and
among one another to the
tempo of the distant melodies.
In
life, ‘tis so easy to grow lost
in that which we call
individuality,
So
easy to focus on details
and lose sight of the
reason behind them.
Rarely
do we stop to simply watch
the moment occur,
to
admire the rarity of so many
gathered for a singular purpose:
To
welcome the coming holiday.
I
slip my arm around him;
together we brave the sea.
He
won’t see things as I do,
but that’s all right, for
neither
can I breathe in the
details as he does.
I
can separate myself into the
bystander and the experiencer,
and
step away for a single second, breathe,
and take it all in at once.
Among
the crowd I feel alone
save for him by my side,
warm and solid.
He
didn’t want to come at first,
but came for me.
Perhaps
that is the reason the
people gather.
Not
for the wassail
and the coffee;
Not
for the horses
and the carriages;
Not
for the choirs
and the bands;
Not
even for the Nativity scene
or for Santa.
But
like the elderly couple who danced
beneath the warmth of the trees
oblivious to the entity swirling
around them,
the
people come because their hearts lead them,
To
welcome the glow of the lights,
The change of the seasons,
And
the embrace of their Love.
 |
My phone decides to less-than-favor taking photos at night,
but this is one I took of the lighting while waiting at the corner
so you might see what I was attempting to describe. |
What did you think? Please, if you have any questions, comments, or critiques (little did you know that you are now my beta readers—an honor, might I add, so please don't run away) post them in the comments section below! Chances are that in the future, I'll ask specific questions and for you to help critique my writing in order to better it during the revision process.
Thank you for reading!
