We stand in fine and falling snow
dimpling the vitreous calm facade
of my ancient virescent river.
Its captured waters silently plod
northwest; inexorably away.
Write On!
One More Christmas Eve.
Can you smell it? You remember.
Rows of magic electric embers
glow upon verdant tinseled boughs
The fragrance fills the winter house
Gifts piled on the felted cover
Carefully wrapt by loving mother
A few thoughts on Covid, masks and manliness.
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