Today I am sweeping…
needles and berries
and fragments of twigs
left behind from my
work.
Others have hung the
roping
of fragrant pine
and set the candles in
place.
They have placed the
wreaths and ribbons,
wrapped the church
entrance
in garlands of green,
positioned the tartan
bow
on the lamp post.
Inside I gathered
upright juniper
with pliant pine and
cedar
into festive bouquets
that guard the altar.
And now, alone, I
sweep
holiday dust, the
molecules of celebration
lost between the
floorboards,
extending back for
centuries.
I sweep and trim and
smile
as I imagine women
have done
since this church
began:
we set things right,
tweak a bow,
fractionally turn a
wreath or vase,
then step back (as we
always do)
to see the church and
judge it ready--
fresh and clean and
candle-bright:
dressed for Christmas.
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