Birthday

Hat and gloves. Puffer coat over snow pants, over insulated rubber boots painted with little red flowers. Slide down the gentle slope on my little black sled, Tramp back up to the top and slide down again. Throw snowballs for the dog to chase. Return to the icy back step, Snow-soaked with flushed rosy cheeks and running nose, Fleece sweater soaking up sweat.

Shiny paper - gold red and blue looped with ribbon and hidden tape. Glitter snowflake print and pastel peonies on aquamarine. No poinsettias or holly to be seen Wrapping gifts Stacked at the end of the table, On the deep blue, heavy cloth Covered in white stitches.

Pale buttercream cake Piled in pink frosted twists of petals A mountain of beautiful swirled roses Green curling leaves draping down like thread. A cake I shared with my great grandmother so many years ago, Her birthday 4 days after mine, 87 years before mine. I saw her reach her 100th year before I watched Her absence from our gatherings, Stretch long and wide and full And dull and smooth with time

Chlorine scent in my nose Sharpening the cold prick at my lungs. The scent clinging to my softened skin and in my still wet hair Feeling the bump of the ground under my feet Each step a reminder, that out here, I can no longer glide Through a world of cerulean skies Marked in light fragments of the surface. A mug of hot milk and fluffy slippers To match the fluffy robe wrapped around me. Sitting in the piny living room by the wood stove Glowing with heat and light. In the morning I found the little angel in an orange dress with golden horn Inside the dark blue box marked ‘15,’ And today her magnet lets her soar between wooden stars Over a stable and little magnet cows. The tree stands at the far end of the room The cold white lights gleaming like stars Between the branches and whimsical decorations. An ornament for every year or trip away from home A story for every one. Straw stars and glass bubbles, Wooden ships and metal towns, Clay mice, famous figures, and brightly painted sea life, Creatures of wood and resin peek between pine needles, Birds - carved, beaded, feathered, or sewn - soar around the upper branches. The fluffy abominable snowman (that I was frightened of for years) Hangs the star from the very top.

-Griffin Hatley ‘22

-Isabel Brozen ‘24

Dirt ground into the lines of my palms. Sweet horse sweat and feed, Dusty hay chaff Cold rubber ground Swept cement floor The cold creeping under doors, through windows, and up walls. The warm soft prickle as today’s partner wipes her nose off On my tight fit pants, wrapped in chaps around the calves A smear of green hay spit is left behind My birthday gift Nothing compared to the calm, happy, tired, and centered I now feel Thanks to these gentle, curious, and contented creatures, And my favorite bossy lady who commands the respect of the barn That today reaches another anniversary of existence.

Pasta dinner and cupcakes Carrot, caramel, or chocolate Neatly frosted and quickly devoured. Sitting round the coffee table by the roaring wood stove On the couch, chairs, and cushions on the floor. Shrieking with laughter at each witty response. Or the clever tactic designed to thwart the opposing colored chips on the board, It’s sprawling leaves covered in tiny bright icons and directions.

Little faces made of pixels Separated into grids of boxes Still manage to show their loving chaos Through the chaos of the year. No need to do anything But listen and laugh.

The crunch of ice beneath my rubber boots painted with little red flowers Sharp and crackling like the December air in my lungs Wreaths on doors and glowing windows in the dark afternoons. The mad rush to the end of the school term To enter the rush of the holiday season. Soon to see family - We’ll sing, work Christmas puzzles, eat excellent food, And celebrate each others’ presence at the New Year. But that’s next week. This week (or what I can scrape away from school) belongs to me.

Shiny paper - gold purple and blue looped with ribbon and hidden tape. Patterned cloth knotted cleverly round gifts Stacked at the end of the table, On the deep blue heavy cloth Covered in white stitches.

Lights out. Tiny little flames dancing atop pillars of striped candy colored wax Standing on a dais of glossy chocolate, Little purple frosting roses round the edges, My name in loopy letters. My mom’s sweet notes soaring, my dad’s notes dragging out of tune. The little stars of fire shine through the glass of the hanging beveled bubble Sending fragmented spiders’ webs of light and shadow across the ceiling. Swell my lungs and think a wish. Whatever is wished will be too big or too small, and never quite fit the moment. A wish from all the years of wishes. Puff out the air And (for just a moment let the light flicker and flutter like billowing cloth) Blow the candles out. The light comes back on. Lights onto a new year.