Tiny Tims

Image by Christin Hahn

Tiny Tims

Two small knocks, then
“Whatcha’ doin’, Pop?”
comes in chorus from
my two grandsons, both
under five, holding my den door
open, buzz-cut heads still
beneath the brass knob.

“Pop’s working at the computer,” I said,
“On a poem,” I thought.

“We love you,” both chimed
as the door closed.

Now
I am smiling, tough but tender,
soundly touched as I gleefully
witness the excommunication
of the haggard humbug
that tends to rise up with me
around the holidays.

Glenn Buttkus

December 2010

Would you like the Author to read this poem to you?