Such Family, Such Yule

After the goose, sweet potatoes

fat as stockings, cider, and blueberry

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,

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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