coming on the heels of the holiday season, a poem (go figure!)

"after Sunrise Service"
mom's commute and dad's schedule
gave us plenty time to peel and peek
at gifts stashed in their closet

the knowing as exciting as tearing open
silent morning; never mind Santa--
no snow or chimneys this year in San Diego,

just a basketball, Stretch Armstrong, Simon Says,
and soon-to-be-broken toys unlike any
my parents had growing up

in Louisiana, before migrating West where we
danced ankle-deep in wrapping paper
every year, after Sunrise Service.