Make Room

Enough by Jeffrey Harrison

It's a gift, this cloudless November morning
warm enough to walk without a jacket
along your favorite path.  The rhythmic shushing
of your feat through fallen leaves should be
enough to quite the mind, so it surprises you
when you catch yourself telling off your boss
for a decade of accumulated injustices,
all the things you've never said circling inside you.

The rising wind pulls you out of it,
and you look up to see a cloud of leaves
wheeling in sunlight, flickering against the blue
and lifting above the treetops, as if the whole day
were sighing, Let it go, let it go,
for this moment at least, let it go.

I like the last stanza of this poem.  Let it go.  Make room.

Make Room.  This seems an interesting term for advent.  On the other hand, it makes sense.  My mind went two ways as I looked at this.  Initially, I thought about not having room at the inn.  If you're Christian, you know the story, born in a manger, no room at the inn.  The more realistic use of this advent term seems to be the crazy schedules during the holiday time.  For work, it's the end of the trimester and parent/teacher conferences.  In my personal life it's December birthdays and the craziness of the holidays.  I need to make room for myself to enjoy the other stuff.