THE BEST GIFT FOR CHRISTMAS IS THE GIFT OF LOVE
—Michael H. Brownstein, Jefferson City, MO
How do we create love?
Past the woods, past the old asphalt road, into the road of potholes and mud,
a turn at the field of weed and discarded metal, a small house is lit with candlelight.
Inside, a lone woman waits for her man to come home. She has waited through
thirst and wind, broken glass and fury, prayer and a lack of faith, but she has faith
and she holds her faith bone deep, an ironclad faith, a copper faith mixed with bronze,
a bit of silver, sapphire, thick jade and maybe a few particles of gold just in case.
She goes to the window and pulls the bed sheet to the side. He is coming.
She can see him at the foot of the field, the small house warm and dry.
He has something in his hand and he is happy. This makes her happy. She opens the door.
Christmas and they have little to give one another. It does not matter. He does not
need to show her the blossom or the agate. He does not have to scrape his boots clean
entering the house. He is both wet from the early rain and dry from the change in wind.
He greets her warmly, places the blossom carefully on the old wooden table, the agate
on the windowsill near the candles on the mantelpiece. Their hug is their hug.
Love is created in many ways. This is but one of them.
—from Michael Brownstein’s book, How Do We Create Love? (www.amazon.com/How-Do-We-Create-Love/dp/1703570014)
—Michael H. Brownstein, Jefferson City, MO
How do we create love?
Past the woods, past the old asphalt road, into the road of potholes and mud,
a turn at the field of weed and discarded metal, a small house is lit with candlelight.
Inside, a lone woman waits for her man to come home. She has waited through
thirst and wind, broken glass and fury, prayer and a lack of faith, but she has faith
and she holds her faith bone deep, an ironclad faith, a copper faith mixed with bronze,
a bit of silver, sapphire, thick jade and maybe a few particles of gold just in case.
She goes to the window and pulls the bed sheet to the side. He is coming.
She can see him at the foot of the field, the small house warm and dry.
He has something in his hand and he is happy. This makes her happy. She opens the door.
Christmas and they have little to give one another. It does not matter. He does not
need to show her the blossom or the agate. He does not have to scrape his boots clean
entering the house. He is both wet from the early rain and dry from the change in wind.
He greets her warmly, places the blossom carefully on the old wooden table, the agate
on the windowsill near the candles on the mantelpiece. Their hug is their hug.
Love is created in many ways. This is but one of them.
—from Michael Brownstein’s book, How Do We Create Love? (www.amazon.com/How-Do-We-Create-Love/dp/1703570014)
_________________
—Medusa, thanking Michael Brownstein for today’s fine contribution to the Kitchen!
—Medusa, thanking Michael Brownstein for today’s fine contribution to the Kitchen!
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world, including
that which was previously-published.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
