Dear After-Christmas Leftovers

I love this week between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day! After the busy time of shopping and gifting and cooking and hosting, it’s wonderful to sink back into the chair of “it’s all over!”

These days do have their hazards, though. This little breakup note to the Christmas leftovers is a poem I wrote a year ago today.

Where the leftovers live (Photo © 2017 by V. Nesdoly)

 

Three days ago before the Christmas feast
I eyed you, in your cling-wrap-covered bowls
and labelled cartons, with anticipation.

On that night I gave your contents unrestricted
access, made a holiday food exception
in all its buttery, crispy, tart and tasty,

poultry, stuffing, cabbage-rolly
glory—then savoured
trifles of cake, eggnog, those very

rich chocolates filled with brandy
melted by sips of creamy
fresh-brewed coffee.

But now I view your half-full cartons
with a different eye, though they still
tease and mock: “A spoonful

of cold dressing, dollop of cranberry
doesn’t really count. Surely you wouldn’t
throw out half a dessert!”

I’m sorry, but I would.
We’ve had our little fling
though just three days ago
I said yes to everything.

© 2017 by Violet Nesdoly (All Rights Reserved)

This post is linked to Poetry Friday, hosted today by Heidi Mordhorst, who takes us into the wonderful world of trees.

 

 

SJT – Doubt (Captivated)

Photo © 2015 by V. Nesdoly

Captivated

Puffy white lambs
in the sky.
Iridescent dragonflies. Furry bees.
Jewel birds flitting and fluting the forest
with warbles and calls.
A plush rabbit’s coat.
Moist velvet tickle of a horse’s nose.
He, smooth, agile, muscular
climbing a palm.

These globes just above me
hanging from this tree God has forbidden
their glossy roundness inviting
a caress, a pluck, a savor…
The intelligent eyes
of the beautiful chartreuse
creature suddenly beside me
taking my measure, his liquid tones
smooth, oily, almost fragrant
“Has God indeed said…?”

© 2015 by Violet Nesdoly (All rights reserved)

*****************
In this little piece, I was trying to get at the wonders of the created world as Eve experienced them through her fresh-wax senses. Ah, but there was trouble ahead.

Every brand and iteration of doubt is, I believe, in some way begun by revisiting the words spoken by the serpent to Eve in Genesis 3:1.

This post is linked to Spiritual Journey Thursday, hosted by Holly Mueller at Reading, Teaching, Learning. The theme this week is DOUBT.