Warm color-lighted tree viewed from outside, man on the frigid deck, without heavy clothing so he knows it, staring at the stark chimney in moonlight and tall, capillary, naked, hard, enduring oaks fractal against cream sky. Through the glass he notices presents circled underneath the tree spill, gifts and the love contained, expressive, warm. Fire waves surrounded by brick and iron mesh, youngest brother’s hips perpendicular to the plane of the brown leather couch, position of obvious fade, attempting to maintain his read in the warmth seen under quieting stars. And the growing, proud moon, its time to shine. He remembers his brother and his nephew, the first. Sleeps in a bed with his warm wife and the large window without curtains, and on his back soaks stars and so much promise. Morning frosted and clean and clear, solitary patch of snow, the gifts, evening’s meal on one side of inertia, kitchen heat, table cleared, tree and sunshine, paused, waiting for brother who called from cold Danbury, contemplating interstate or scenic highway, expeditiousness versus curious used-to-be intuitive elements of an unpressed freedom. He’ll notice beauty either way, we’re certain, and parents nervously plan, fuss, and hope for their grandson’s well-being a young family’s arrival.
