Christmas Baking

Lake Burton, Georgia 

December 24, 2009

I drift awake in a strange chair 

alone in an unfamiliar room 

bathed in late-day light. 

My running pundit mutters, confused 

as phantom insights flash and fade 

from the realm of unrecovered dreams.

Silhouettes of small birds 

streak by the high window 

that frames a tiny swath of sky. 

As scattered moments slowly cohere, 

I sense again the vague regret –

another slice of life gone by. 

But fire warms the gray stone hearth 

and glad voices drift from the kitchen 

in busy rhythms of conversation. 

The day regroups. 

The season peaks. 

The sun resumes its cycle. 

Through stale corridors, 

sharp currents of cinnamon and savory

carry hints of transcendence come – Christmas is baking.