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Such Family, Such Yule

After the goose, sweet potatoes

fat as stockings, cider, and blueberry

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pie, she calls us to the piano.

Adeste Fideles. God Rest Ye Merry.

We push old carols through the cracks

in the fireplace bricks. Dad's

on the wrong verse. Sister's

a notch flat. It doesn't matter.

Grandma always covers us,

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crescendos and smart chords,

fingers quick over the keys. Tonight

we'll sing down snow, sing

that crazy elf to the roof -

Hark the Herald, Joy to the World

where doubters and believers

can dent every note

and still have love enough for more.

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