Ezy Reading:
 Oakland, ME
Evan Kanarakis

 

 
Across the pond
our elderly neighbors think us tardy
because these Christmas lights are still up
in May. But each night, as we turn up the road
for home, carefully navigating around the fallen pine
(that I keep forgetting to chainsaw into next winter’s
firewood),
whenever the children spy those blinking jewels
of white and green and red
their laughter tickles me so.
Just yesterday the older one, Gracie,
informed me that our lights are
winged fairies of the forest,
angels of Maine
that guide her home.
I wonder why our neighbors furrow their brows
whenever we drive past?
(I always offer a friendly wave)
Perhaps our lights remind them of some unclaimed promise
once seen and hoped for in the stars
now a little too close to home.
The doctor pays house visits to them more these days,
their yard grows more unkempt.
I hope, in time (if time is granted)
they’ll spy the glow across the pond
and think of fireflies and holidays,
and recall now-empty rooms once overflowing with joy.
These lights: they whisper happiness
that’s why I leave them so
 
Ezy Reading is out every month...
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