January rising….

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I love how January settles in with a merry thump,
like a good friend plopping down
with a drink in her hand,
and I welcome the after-busy,
cleansed-palate way she has about her.

I’ve loved this month since I was a girl,
how she holds my birthday,
and feels like maybe it really will snow tonight,
deep and fluffy this time,
and bring the sleds off the wall in the garage
and maybe even close down school,
and what if I don’t even do my homework tonight
because the air smells a little like magic.

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….yeah,  I love that about her.

And I remember that January night of many years ago,
dangling over the side of my bed
to peek at a little stack of presents underneath,
wrapped in pale yellow birthday paper,
just waiting until tomorrow,
waiting for me.

I remember whispering,  in the dim sliver of light from the hall,
“I can’t believe I’m almost 5.”

It was pure wonder.

Somehow January takes me there again,
suspended over a pile of unopened presents,
just waiting for the sun to rise.

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“Life is an occasion.
Rise to it.”
-Mr. Magorium

Hello from the holidays.
It’s been an intense time of hospital and emergency and family gathered near and miracles and gratitude
and love overcoming all.
Wonderful and exhausting.

I’d love to give away one of my January issues of Ripplesongs
so I’m having a drawing this week;
leave a comment and you’re in the running:)

January rising…

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January has settled in with a merry thump,
like a good friend plopping down with a drink in her hand
and I welcome the after-busy,
cleansed palate
way she has about her.

I’ve loved January since I was a little girl,
how she holds my birthday
and feels like maybe it really will snow tonight,
deep and fluffy this time,
and bring the sleds out of the garage
and maybe even close down schools
and what if I don’t even  do my homework
cause it could happen!

….yeah,  I love that about her.

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She reminds me of the magic of a night long ago,
dangling over the side of my bed
to peek at a little stack of presents beneath
wrapped in pale yellow paper
covered in bright birthday balloons
just waiting for tomorrow,
waiting for me!
I remember whispering in the dim sliver of light from the hall,
“I can hardly believe I’m almost 5!”

It was pure wonder.

Somehow January takes me there again,
suspended over a little pile of unopened gifts
just waiting for the sun to rise.

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And,  hey,  I can hardly believe I’m almost 51!

“Life is an occasion.
Rise to it.”

-Mr.  Magorium