For my window which frames
gardens laced with frost,
winter birds feeding,
and squirrels who knock
politely for nuts to be thrown
For my lover who
never ceases to help me do
morning to night menial chores
when hospitality cares
to make warm welcomes
For our children who bring
friends and spouses to build
gingerbread houses with their
imaginations bursting to use
sweet building material
For a mother still living
who stuffs the turkey
and whisks magic into
the gravy with aplomb -
and stirs me to greater love
