A Poem for the New Year

Waking to a New Old World

Waking to a new world this morning
Frigid and bright outside
Warm and dark behind the blinds
In bed with my wife and new baby who
grunts in her sleep

I was amazed by a new old Ohio
appearing in the last few hours
of blowing snow
covering the ground
not like a blanket
but like my Grandmother’s kitchen floor
one evening when I was 12.

I ventured that night
with the adults out of the house
to make cinnamon rolls
from scratch
spilling flour over sister’s head –
she resembled an unfriendly ghost.

She squealed of the trouble I was in
once grown-ups got home
of not helping to clean
that she didn’t like
smin-o-man rolls anyway.

Once I learned to “roll as in jelly-roll”
-they were gooey rich, steaming
deliciousness if oddly shaped –
better because of sister’s complaints and
the snowy mess on the floor
-especially her grin
powder-sugar icing
dripping from her chin.

Waking to a new old Ohio
I have not traded
one love for another.
I have held onto all love,
the warmth
of a new old winter day
and cinnamon rolls.