Poetry by Terri Watrous Berry
Like well-rehearsed mice, we
grumble through a mall maze,
hoping just to find the perfect
tie, but whether the bathrobe’s
bought or not, Christmas comes.
And all is not merry and bright
holly jolly Christmas folly for
we just have far too much to do!
Until the magic moment, for
there’s always that one magic
moment, when Christmas gifts
itself to us again. It may happen
in the twinkling of a small child’s
eyes, or a carol keyed within
a lock hidden in your heart.
Or a perfect stranger’s change
clangs, into a copper kettle, and
your own bone-weary spirit is
renewed. No, Christmas doesn’t
come to us, it just sits there
on the calendar. We are the ones
who finally come to Christmas.
Terri Watrous Berry’s prose has received awards from venues as diverse as Hemingway Days Festival and Des Plaines/Park Ridge NOW Feminist Writers Competition. Nonfiction pieces this year were included in Wayward Literature, The The Bluebird Word, and The Terry Tribune; fiction in Wising Up Press, Persimmon Tree, and University of Alabama.
