a Christmas poem

midnight falls to meet the day
and rises to meet the sky

the magic moon aglow
with stars that twinkle brilliant light -


shadows that dance
among the angles who clear
the evil spirits
making way for cheer

good riddance to the boogie man
and to all the nighttime fear

instead we slumber, waiting for Santa
hear the sleigh bells near

the amazing hand

holding hands
softness  - kid hands
stability - a partner's hand
a parent's hand - steady, unwavering
guides his youth
towards safe travels
through this tumbly universe

the amazing hand can heal,
lift, type, orchestrate
gesture signs of happiness,
speak all on its own...
voiceless
always with more to say

a wave hello
a smile in the distance
two hands outreached
to welcome you home

small voices

without seeing I look
and turn and look again
don't know which gift
i was hoping to find
only remember the joy in
the small hand holding mine
as he jumps
and says
"Merry Christmas"
to everyone

enough can't be said

the damage...done

a city on fire
a peaceful protest

no justice for men,
small and struggling
large, burning
with the hunger
the wish to survive
another day

despair, over death
needless, careless,
devastation

 a great divide
that should have closed
long ago

a court system
bought out
by "the man'
and "they"
that seem to own
the right to kill

another day at the office

the day drags him through its redundancies

in his grey pants
and buttoned-down shirt
he grabs
another coffee
a glass of water,
bathroom break
back to  the breakroom
for a snack
and then a quick
meaningless chat
returns him to a computer
where a screen instructs
his movements
for the next two hours

another coffee,
a glass of water

the day goes in despite
itself
despite its long duration,
he endures it

home for Christmas

somewhere in the moment
time paused
a faded pine tree in the distance,
I could smell as it beckoned me
closer

pick me!
i need a home for Christmas

and so my search began and ended
along with the moment

and sing we did
all the way home
about trees and bells
and Grandma's house

and the tree that picked me
cleverly will hold a brilliant star
even though placed by a toddler
upon a crooked branch-top

Black Friday - or how I imagine it

I am elbowed
as I walk into the store
by a 50 year old man
wearing socks
and flip-flops and
loose tiger-striped
pink pants

quickly i run
for refuge
in the next closest aisle
and am nearly tackled
by an 89 year old
running with a metal cart

She does not speak as she
tears the newest American Doll
off the shelf

I almost apologize
for getting in her way

Three women hopped
up on peppermint lattes gossip
and then argue over
who will get the last
of the sale-priced lego sets

I have left the store
and am writing this
from the safety of my car
in the gas station parking lot
across the street