a light in a window

as a paper boy,
I would pull my red wagon, with
my dog
beside me
in the cold mornings
of Maryland.
i'd bundle the papers
and toss them onto porches
as I ran
the streets, the wagon
squeaking behind me.
the quiet of Christmas
morning
was magnificent,
not a soul out, but a milk
truck rolling,
the clink of bottles,
a barking dog.
a yellow brush of
light in a window
far off.