72
January/February 2022
POEM
Christmas Break by Nick Schaff
I’d like to preface with a claim I can’t particularly support: That kids and grown-ups are the same, But kids play games, and grown-ups, sports. The rules don’t change, and nor do we, But somewhere in there, life adds stakes, Great stakes, as tall as any tree, Bequeathed with grace and well-placed whacks. Thus hammered, we meander, trip, And jump at distant thunder while Ignoring hairs that start to crisp From looming lightning overhead— The camera flashes as we smile. Our life’s a life-long exercise In missing forests for their trees. We fill our chests, rely on eyes, And trust the little each eye sees. A man stands in his kitchen and Beholds the backyard, while above, His daughter spies a far-off land (What wise old Noah missed could not Elude the vantage of a dove). Her small feet patter in the wake Of those tough soles that came before, Unsure if they’d made a grave mistake, Leaving home to walk a distant shore.
