The Light-Makers

About does who dedicate to the art of Christmas decorations

Photo by Jamie Davies on Unsplash

The Light-Makers

To you who climb ladders in November chill,
testing each bulb with frozen fingers—
I see your devotion in the way you
wrap light around bare branches
like childhood memories.

Your houses pulse in December dark,
each window a heartbeat of color.
(What makes us need this glow
so desperately?)

I watch your children point
at inflatable snowmen, their faces
reflecting the blue-white sparkle
of icicle lights. You've created
this magic for them, haven't you?
Or perhaps for the stranger
who slows their car, just for a moment,
to witness your work.

The dedication is a language
of its own—spoken in watts
and extension cords, in the
perfect spacing of net lights
across shrubs. In the way you
stand back each night, hands
on hips, checking for burnt
out bulbs like a conductor
ensuring every note rings true.

To you who transform ordinary streets
into rivers of light—who fight
the darkness with plastic reindeer
and glowing angels—thank you
for this gift of wonder.

We need it more than ever,
this rebellion against winter shadows,
this insistence on joy.

Your lights say: here we are,
still making beauty in the dark.
Still climbing ladders toward stars.