we drive to see a house ablaze in light
windows trimmed in green and more green
the doors flash red and white, our faces glow incandescent
big bulbs small bulbs icicles tinsel yet somehow
a Lite-Brite with all its pegs is never too much

it’s been happening forever, cars passing slower than normal
porch boombox playing “Pretty Paper” slower, too
the way a whole town hurries there when it’s snowing
the stillness in a mother’s lap
the arguments ended without winning

Photo by Timothy Eberly on Unsplash