My parents recognized a presence lingering in the hallway, like when you feel someone staring at you from across a room. That gaze makes you lift your head to turn your body and stop mid drag on a cigarette. Or to part those lips just so, before that bitter sip of Chivas Regal Whisky trickles down.
Every year something arrived in my mailbox, before during or after;
the timing unrelated to any mystery
you’d entered and explored
before emerging with that year’s
small parcel summation…
“I just wanted to drop this package off for Mr. Gar. He will know what to do with it.” The man tapped his nose, winked, and began to walk out of the store. Before he left, he turned and smiled radiantly. “I do believe I feel the warmth of this store returning. It’s been too cold for too long.”
“Once again we come together.
This is the season to sharpen knives,
test the waters, prepare for weather.
Bitter almond, thyme, sage, cloves:
spices this time of year requires.”