Monday, December 25, 2017

poem of the day December 25


There is a calm
a certain ephemeral
quick silver 
I feel every Christmas
up early before
the excited storm
Everyone still asleep
The silent tree lit 
with red and green lights
flickering the play between stop and go
I sit on this see-saw of memories and anticipation
blended into the magic pulse
found only on Christmas time

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