Christmas Is Coming
Sitting on a stonewall, watching
a creek burble its way over
a granite bed, at the foot
of a stone mountain in Georgia,
is what i distill from memory
and looking at that photo.
Hearing children's play voices
and watching their restless
hop from one foot to the other
condenses into a remembrance
of our first meeting, when I
needed to kiss you and touch
your face as if it would fade.
Restless anticipation is my companion
for the next two weeks, while I can
hardly keep myself from getting
on a plane and coming to you early.
You are my happiness in one serving
of an ideal man to bring me home.
Get Carrie'd away.