I remember

the particular fragrance of the tree lot

that piercing fir scent that brings my Father back so strongly

that I am standing next to him

eight years old, wood shavings dusting my shoes

fragrance that creates such a

hereandnow

that I can only breathe deeply,

inhaling that time among the trees

lit by the stringed lights

and, how is it,

 that the young girl, her betrothed,

hay and shepherds

is as deeply remembered?

we did not walk among firs together

see each other’s breath cloudcaught

in the aura of lights that beckon

perhaps the gift of such recollection is grace

the making of a long-ago story my own

weaving itself into fragrance

and wood shavings

into which God breathes deeply

Pastor Susan

2011