Nobody harks the herald
while taking down the lights
on New Year’s Day—
thrum of an almost hangover
reminding you that champagne
and late late nights are no longer
your domain. Nobody jingles the bells
while wrapping ornaments in tissue.
The evergreen branches
beginning to brown and you have already
reminisced over every blown glass bulb,
told the story of the wooden Santa,
picked your favorite ceramic angel.
Nobody sings joy to the boxes
resealed and banished to the attic
where all the jolly accruements
dream of being taken out
and allowed to shine.
We are the accruements of this Holiday Madness; time to crawl back in the box. – mh clay