MJ blathers

dark poet who loves to laugh


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true holiday tree

gentle rain
whispering onto the feather-needled tree
collecting as reflecting drops
of silver or glistening crystal
at the ends of each tiny twig
outshining bolder lights
of tinsel and commercial greed

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winter mantle

a flannel of white
bundled layer by layer
snuggling rather than confining
close-fit down lending warmth
while outer, final layers
fend off gray cold
slowing our reactions
to more considered responses
discarding petty peeves
to bring to mind
what matters
life, survival, ultimate
loss of all we’ve held
common, and dear
giving us time
slow time
to reset emotion and
perspective to a larger
whole to which we
can only tentatively
cling
but not possess