Christmas Day

At four a.m. a double barrel shotgun blast
announces the day’s beginning.
It rudely brings us awake, but we know its meaning.
Soon we hear grandpa begin to build the fires: first in the wood heater,
then in the kitchen cook stove.
Too soon to leave the warmth of grandma’s pretty patchwork quilts,
in sleepy wonder of the day’s surprises, we lie in bed.
We breathe the scent of kerosene and wait for the warmth to spread.
Fragrant coffee wafts, enticing us to brave the winter chill.
Before long, the smells of biscuits and gravy and ham will
permeate the house and we can resist no longer.
One foot at a time, we relinquish our cocoon of warmth,
arise and greet the day.
And in grandpa’s house, we greet each other with
“Christmas gift!”