Sylvia's Christmas poems to appear in Waterways

Por favor?

Are the boys at Tornillo
hoping to see Santa?

What can he bring
to their desert tents
that could begin
to make amends
for lost childhood?

Tonight a cold wind

So I’ve brought in
the poinsettia

To let it safely sit as sign
that even I can say, aye,
it is the season.

I know the date. 
I know the president is he
who presides.  So there.

There, there now.

But tomorrow I’ll find
my old poster, that antique Santa
with bulging belly and a pipe,
reprinted above “Books for Christmas,
including Dover paperbacks,”
bought for $1.00 (I well remember)
one mid-December night,
decades past, steadfast friend
that’s helped me acknowledge,
again and decades over, again,
the year is winding down.

Tonight the cold wind,
the poinsettia safely brought in.