Christmas

All Poems, Change, Christmas, For Children, Holidays, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

First Monday After Three Kings Day

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The first Monday after Three Kings Day bustles.

Streets teem.

People rush to work.

Students to school.

Cars whiz by.

Stop at red lights.

Bumper to bumper.

Red buses snake around corners.

Even quiet parks, byways for scurrying.

But the strangest sight, trucks.

Come to dismantle the holiday.

Take down tree ornaments.

Christmas villages.

Crêches with Three Kings.

Remove the magic.

That suffused Valencia.

Through the seventh of January.

Extending the holidays.

Signaling time to move on.

See Valencia undressed.

Find other hidden charms.

Leave you equally impressed.

 

Lynn Benjamin

January 14, 2024

All Poems, Christmas, Holidays, Natural Beauty, Plants, Sleep, Time, Trips and Places, Valencia

January 6th in Valencia

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It’s quiet on January 6th.

Before sunrise.

A few walkers march along.

As I head to a nearby park.

Thinking of children awakening.

Finding gifts in their shoes.

From munificent Magi.

Moon trades places with sun.

In a gentle accord.

While I observe the scene.

Yellow cosmos, African lilies.

Cyclamens, red and white.

Huge Moreton Bay Figs.

Swaying palm trees.

Street sweepers.

Clearing remnants of last evening’s parade.

Pigeons stirring.

Filling the square with songs.

Pecking for discarded crumbs.

When a random thought pops in my head.

As I wander paths

under lightening skies,

my family back at home

has yet to wake and rise.

 

Lynn Benjamin

January 11, 2024

 

 

All Poems, Christmas, Holidays, Trips and Places, Valencia

Do You Ever Wish?

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Do you ever wish you could extend Christmas?

Make it more than one day?

Then come to Spain!

Where it continues six days beyond New Year’s.

To the eve and then day of Reyes Magos.

When Melchior, Casper and Balthazar appear.

Give presents to well-behaved children.

On January 5th, they parade through streets in Valencia.

Starting in the harbor at 5pm.

Through the city at 6.

Costumed acrobats sing, dance.

Toss sweets, balls, trinkets.

A retinue of royal helpers.

Crowds start gathering along the route.

In the morning.

Claiming the best seats.

So, by late afternoon, a sea of merrymakers swells.

Inundates sidewalks.

Chanting, clapping.

With each new bevy of performers.

Bob and I did not vie for seats.

Nor were we squashed in the throng.

For our balcony looked out at the parade.

From four stories above.

Hoisting up excitement.

Sights, smells.

Sounds of gleeful children, their parents.

The parade puffed up expectations

as floats fluttered by.

For this was the night

for gift giving Magi.

 

Lynn Benjamin

January 10, 2024

All Poems, Christmas, Food, Holidays, Spain, Trips and Places, Valencia

It’s Not Elkins Park

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It’s not Elkins Park, said Bob.

On our first foray into the streets of Valencia.

Our first night here.

Through la Plaza de la Reina.

Into the snaking alleys of the old city.

Near the Cathedral.

Past Christmas markets.

Streets lit up like jewels.

Displays of the three kings.

Offering gifts to baby Jesus.

Past palm and orange trees.

Shops selling turrones, horchatas.

Roscones de Reyes.

Not only was it not Elkins Park.

Christmas hadn’t ended.

Three Kings Day, just ahead.

Holidays extended!

 

Lynn Benjamin

January 9, 2024

 

Turrones: Spanish almond candies of Moorish origin. They are sweet, made with wildflower honey and can be smooth and soft, or harder like nougat.

Horchatas: Beverages made with sweetened tiger nuts (chufas, a nutlike tuber)

Roscones de Reyes: Round Christmas cakes made with dried fruits, sometimes filled with cream. They usually contain a hidden dried bean for luck and a figurine of the baby Jesus. They are eaten especially on the 6th of January to celebrate Three Kings Day.

Adult Children, All Poems, Art/Arts, Christmas, Family, Holidays, Humor

Theater Snob

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I’m a theater snob, said my daughter.

Criticizing the production of Beauty and the Beast.

At the Walnut, America’s oldest theatre.

As being too plastic.

Too Disneyesque.

Despite outstanding singing, dancing.

Special effects, acrobatics.

Exaggerated humor.

Physical and verbal.

Sending the audience into spasms of laughter.

Despite a packed house.

Applauding each scene with gusto.

Despite her own children being rapt.

Entertained for over two hours.

Despite glorious costumes, scenery.

Performance quality.

Our daughter continued debating.

Its lack of innovation, creativity.

Slavishness to the cartoon.

Additional songs, stretching it longer.

Boring her.

But, in the end, conceding its merit.

If it lures children to the theater,

inspires love of arts,

no matter it’s not perfection,

but fairytale, part farce.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 30, 2023

Adult Children, All Poems, Art/Arts, Christmas, Emotions, Family, Food, Holidays, Memories, Mother Love, Pleasure, Time

Tempted by Time

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Have you ever been tempted by time?

To travel backwards?

By a smell?

A sound?

An image?

Like happened to me today?

At the Academy of Music.

Sitting in a box by Roseanne and Elias.

Watching the dancers play with the nutcracker.

Given Marie by Herr Drosselmeyer.

As a Christmas gift.

When a taste overwhelmed my mouth.

Followed by puckery dryness.

Causing cheeks to draw inward.

Tongue to seek saliva.

As walnut shells clacked on the table top.

Dropped from the silver nutcracker my mother used.

To crack the casing.

Release the contents.

For cakes, confections.

I, sitting on my knees, watching her.

Taking the utensil in both small hands.

Pressing as hard as I could.

I wished I could tell my mother.

I thought of this scene.

It would make her smile.

Just like I would.

If one of my children shared a recollection.

A tender moment, lost, asleep.

Joy would animate my face

in mysterious mystique.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 29, 2023

 

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Christmas, Family, Food, Grandchildren, Holidays

Small Kitchen

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The small kitchen teemed with animation, energy.

As children, adults prepared hors-d’oeuvres.

For Christmas eve dinner.

Crudités, baked cheese dip.

Sautéing onions to add to one thing or another.

Cracking eggshells.

Dropping garlic skins, cheeses on the floor.

Dusty piles of flour everywhere.

Timers bizzed at intervals for corn dogs.

Spanakopitas, Swiss chard pancakes.

And for one weak second, I thought:

I need a moment of silence.

Until my better self intervened.

Reminding me of the purpose.

The intention of this project.

This production of appetizers.

Not the food itself.

Not the clean-up.

But the team effort.

Working together.

Shoulder to shoulder.

Three generations.

Producing a meal.

Worthy of the celebration.

So, I leaned back in.

Pulling up my sleeves.

Making puff pastry for the bourekas.

Another batch for wrapping vegetarian hotdogs.

Sponging, dysoning, wiping.

Right behind the chefs.

By the time we sat down,

a feast to devour,

we had all shared our skills

in a balance of power.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 28, 2023

   

 

 

 

Adult Children, All Poems, Change, Christmas, Family, Grandchildren, Holidays

It’s Awesome

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It’s awesome having a full house again.

Even for a few days.

Daughter, grandchildren round the table.

Laughing, conversing, eating.

Watching them change, mature.

Beginning to care for themselves, each other.

Relishing simple pleasures.

Cooking, baking, reading.

Even walking.

Liora, fourteen, counting steps.

Knowing physical health, precious.

Elias, ten, willing to join.

Seeking animals, adventures.

All of us together, a safari on foot.

Traipsing in formation through parking lots, neighborhoods.

In mild December weather.

As I hold these images.

Knowing I will never fully follow their trajectory.

See their adult selves.

For they are at the starting gate.

I, near the finish.

I press them close while yet I can.

No crystal ball exists.

May they be fit and hearty.

Traversing all life’s twists.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 28, 2023

 

 

Adolescence, All Poems, Change, Christmas, Family, Food, Grandchildren, Health/Illness, Holidays

My Daughter Wanted Treats

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My daughter wanted treats for Christmas Eve.

Hors d’oeuvres, dips, sauces.

So, in the spirit, I enlisted Liora.

To make two quiche Lorraines.

From a vintage recipe.

Given me by a friend over forty years ago.

When quiche was a popular luncheon dish.

Liora whipped up a custard.

Four eggs, cream, salt.

Sauteed onions, peppers, spinach.

Par-baked two crusts.

Blanketed them with cheeses, vegetables.

Then poured the custard on top.

Baked fifty minutes.

And voilà, two golden quiches.

Two gleaming suns.

Julia Child would be proud.

As was I.

My granddaughter, fourteen,

holding in hand a whisk.

Where have the years flown?

So fleeting and so swift.

 

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 26, 2023

Adult Children, All Poems, Christmas, Family, Food, Grandchildren, Holidays

Morning Air Nipped

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The morning air nipped.

Stinging cheeks, hands.

Driving us into the gym to walk the track.

Admire through glass the yellow ribbon round the sky.

A gift waiting to be unwrapped.

Like the one soon to appear at the house.

A daughter, three teens, a niece.

Gathering for shabbat dinner.

Three days before Christmas.

So, it unfolded.

Dinner round the table.

Conversation veering into rough terrain.

War, antisemitism, politics.

Fire blazing.

Warming us to sample desserts.

Focus on what’s sweet.

Chocolate babka from New York’s Breads.

Gingerbread in duplicate.

Blondies and Steens.

Pecan and apple pie à la mode.

After the meal, I turned to my daughter.

Asked if she planned to go to synagogue.

She nodded assent.

Whereupon her father asked, are you sure it’s open?

Thinking of school vacations.

A gym shuttered for the week.

Roseanne studied him.

Stared as if to say:

Why would it be closed?

The world’s in disrepair.

People need a place to go

for contemplation, prayer.

 

Lynn Benjamin

December 25, 2023