Christmas stockings hung 
on the mantle, that by magic
appeared at the foot of our beds
the next morning. I remember
soup suppers and early 
Christmas Eve services and 
finally being old enough 
for midnight mass. I remember
Christmas at Chase Lake, 
Adirondack snow and ice
cocooning us as chickadees
ate peanut butter and seed
ornaments off the outdoor
trees. I remember three, four
generations squeezed into 
my sister’s house, the loaves
and fishes miracle we pulled off
to feed everyone. I remember
the silence and freezing cold
of my first pandemic Christmas,
spent alone.