Hour 9, Prompt 9

 

January Tracks

 

Come January when family’s tire tracks are frozen in the drive

And the cookstove pumps its heat through his roughshod shack

Wind whistles lonely hollow along the edge of camp

And mem’ries come quick on its melody’s tail

Of all the decorations Ma took home in her boxes

The one she missed is sweetest and dearest

His room’s bare bulb’s light reflects off its red Avon glass

Alone on a shelf where garland recently draped,

Then obscuring the silver screw-on ball,

Now mirroring his image back to him

Imagining Ma with a touch of Sweet Honesty Cologne behind her ear

Sweetening the cinnamon spice bread pudding with which she filled his place

Just looking at this ornament left behind swirls

The scents of nutmeg and pine

Reminders of Ginny laughing at presents unwrapping

And Ma blushing at the extravagance he offered

In a box of cordials and bracelet of gold

That he’d offer again just to see her smile

Before packing up Christmas and leaving frozen tracks in the drive