New Husband, Home for Christmas

by Bobbi Dykema Katsanis


 

On television, a cheetah takes down a gazelle,

komodo dragons greedily demolish goats,

technicolor fish dart through otherworldly reefs.

 

But here,

driving north on gravel in South Dakota,

frost shimmers thickly on bare trees

Not twenty yards from the road,

six deer scamper through the frozen scrub,

coats tawny, winter plush,

breath alive and white;

twenty more stand restless in a draw.

 

My husband, city-bred,

is as enchanted as a child,

with nothing to compare it to

but television.

 

But I grew up among coyote,

white-tails, mule deer, ground squirrels,

meadowlarks, golden hawk, and badger.

 

I envy him this newness.

He envies my familiarity—

the magi bring their gifts.

 

to Autumn Leaves, an online poetry journal
volume 11(6)
This poem is copyright © 2007, Bobbi Dykema Katsanis, all rights reserved.
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