Christmas Eve has come. Tonight is the new moon; if you’re reading Mary Oliver’s Twelve Moons as a lunar calendar with me this year, tonight’s poem is called, appropriately enough, Christmas Poem.
I assume that since I read Twelve Moons when I first got it, I must have remembered a poem on this topic without realizing it, and assigned that meaning to the wrong poem.
And, as I inferred in discussing that other poem, children do, in fact, test the Christmas Eve legend! At least, Mary Oliver did. And what a lovely story it becomes—not one of disillusionment or betrayal, but of comfort, and, in some small measure, perhaps—joy.
And that, kind reader, is what I wish for you and yours tonight on Christmas Eve, tomorrow on Christmas day, and always: Comfort and Joy.