Gods rest ye

 
 
If only that were what this season’s all about.
Communal fire, warm and glowing.
Cooking up feast enough to
fill bellies and larders
for wintry weeks to come.
Exchanging gifts our separate
crafts empower
with wishes of good will,
good cheer.  Inebriating spirits
raised and quaffed against
chill fear of dark’s dangers .
If only peace and sensitive portrayal of
our shared condition of human frailty
were the point and purpose of
traditions,
voices pitched to harmonize
for beauty’s sake.
If only we could reach into
legends’ epiphany,
reach out in poignant empathy,
if only we could simply be
merry.
.
.
.
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