If I close my eyes
I can see it now:
A suburban hearth
with a smokeless fire.
A lounge with two ends as far
as east from west;
In this corner - a chanukia
In this, the West's bequest.

In this corner, a tree
with lights flashing,
so appealing, so concealing.
And in this,
a small light singing
above the static
of a frozen world
going nowhere
fast.