Three houses
side-by-side
savoring sweet slumber
in the clear cold night
To the north
a wide rambler
warm-white lights
lining windows
a bright star
shining centered
between the garage door
and the pitched-roof peak
To the south
a suburban split-level
bulbs blinking
red and then green
in the front-room window
a multicolored light
an ornamented tree
announces joy to its neighbors
In the center
a solitary fake flame
casts red-gold shadows
on the lonely front door
Setting the Story
I wanted to begin this Christmas story by paying attention to how close things can be without touching. Three houses, side by side, sharing the same cold night, but telling very different stories through their light. One is steady and symmetrical. One is loud with color and announcement. One barely glows at all.
Nothing happens here, and that is intentional. The poem just looks. It notices placement. Balance. Excess. Absence. Meaning comes from comparison, not commentary. From what is lit, what is decorated, and what is left with only a small imitation of warmth.
I wanted this opening to feel still and observant. Before joy, before conflict, before kindness or its refusal, there is simply the view. If the reader understands this quiet arrangement, then the emotional shifts that come later can arrive without explanation.
