| Now you come to me |
| with a bouquet of flowers — |
| all the colors of the rainbow. |
| I suppose I can expect |
| eight bunches in the next eight days |
| during the Festival of Lights — |
| you’re so charitable! |
| They say it has pagan origins. |
| For millennia people have resisted |
| all forms of persecution. |
| Now the light of your countenance, |
| like the Buddha’s, like Christ’s. |
| Winter solstice, |
| and last week a full eclipse of the moon. |
| Gifts, donuts, and potato pancakes. |
| A giant menorah at Union Square: |
| how dignified, how proud. |
| I suggest to Dylan |
| that all the symbols |
| of all the religions of the world |
| should surround the square, |
| but he shrugs off the idea |
| saying it’s Christmas, Pop. |
| The lights of the tree |
| at the other end of the square |
| reflect in his eyes, |
| and his eyes light up our own. |
| Philip Hackett |
