Plenty
None of the children
believe in Santa anymore,
but we hang the stockings
from the kitchen bookcase
anyway, and we stay up late
until everyone is asleep
before we take them down
and fill them full of candy
and bookmarks, collectables
and lip gloss, so that when
the kids get up on Christmas
and wander into the kitchen,
they find (as they have
always found) the bulging,
abundant, red and white
cornucopian evidence that
magic still exists. They find
the over-stuffed promise
that what is empty will be
filled, that there are still
sweet ways to start the day.
And we, we are allowed
this fantasy, our children
all around us, made happy
through the work of years.
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