these days are sweet
my little ones are preparing,
counting the seconds
until Christmas morning.
like the original children
naming the coarse sugar
that sparkles on the tongue
from the curve of a cookie

I am tempted to hide
from the loud goodness that is here
but I enter the kitchen of seasons
composed and ready
my tranquility measured out
in spoonfuls
by my God who knows how much I need

today, everyday