White Smile



Beneath a cloudy dawn,
Within smoke-thickened air,
The dry ground awakens
With the Holiday affair.

Shops open early
To the onrush of buyers,
While, rising to the occasion,
Smoke abandons its fires.

In the chill of the morning,
With presents to haul,
Shoppers pause only briefly
(in the lines at the mall).

But, as the clouds roll along
And the sun cuts the sky,
The Holiday rush, at dusk,
Seems ready to die.

Somewhere on a porchstep sits,
Her shortened breaths aglow,
A child girl with Cheshire friend;
Palm open -
To the first few flakes of snow.



Don L. Waddell, 1990