Being green we use
fabric bags old boxes to
wrap gifts. No trees die.

Like laser pointers
they blind in red green blue as
they save the planet

Photos we look bad
in. Braggy newsletter. That’s
how we keep in touch.

My door open, but
the rooms are empty, thoughts like
forgotten relics.

Stories always tell
of the one who wanders, then
returns home…like me.

Soon, darkness recedes.
But tonight I wrap myself
in velvet-starred black.

You don’t notice the
absence of sound until you
strain to hear something.

Can days be merry
and bright? Jobs – like ornaments -
fragile, out of reach.

She keeps it displayed
to remind herself that once
she didn’t know it

…create. Impatient
that I won’t pay attention
when I’m writing stuff.