Santa, circa 1963.
A Brownie Troop project.
Odd, indecipherable felt shapes were laid out
on a table, and we picked them up one at a time,
gluing each subsquent layer upon the previous,
until -- ta da! --
Mr. Claus appeared.
To cart out the Christmas ornaments
is to delve into my own personal Ancient History:
the annual catalog of joys and injuries, pleasures & miseries
all boxed up together, a jumble of past lives.
Tonight I left more than half in boxes,
as did Paul.
