Winter Solstice
It was dark and cold
and Grandmother said
let’s make a picnic, we’ll hang
the beaded sun on the ceiling,
have lunch from a willow basket.
She laid out great-grandmother’s quilt,
orange and yellow and blue, a homespun
lawn on the carpet, and I in my nightgown
and she in her lavender dress, ate
tuna and crackers and chocolate
off delicate
china plates.
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