Hot chocolate sky,
marshmallow clouds disappear
on our hayride through resting fields.
Strobe light snowmen,
deer in headlights
never blink.
The children make infinity signs—
circles on carousels racetracks,
figure-eights on the rink,
but the melting candy cane
dissolving in my drink
is a question mark,
disbelief sneaks up on me,
and the powder in my cup’s
not fairy dust.
Happy thoughts can’t
sail me over the manger,
back home,
or keep away the nails
and necessary cross.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
Leave a reply to Tom Cancel reply