“Dec. 23,” New Era, Aug. 1997, 25
I walk bundled down the street
with 100 other scarfed and mittened
Lights adorn the lampposts,
music plays at every door,
the falling snow having just enough
to collect on my eyelashes.
I see a crowd of people shivering
on a street corner
waiting for the light to turn green
And I know it is not out of neglect
that one man wears no coat or gloves.
Someone beside him turns
takes off his coat
puts it around the bent man’s
and says, almost
And the light in that man’s eyes
outshone every electric bulb
on the street.
I wish every day could be Merry