Not That It Matters

I find it difficult to believe in Father Christmas.  If he is the jolly old gentlemen he is always said to be, why doesn’t he behave as such?  How is it the presents go so often to the wrong people?

-A.A. Milne

In Search of Snow Angels



These are respite places.

Or, so we are told.

But in the interim, a simple plotted gesture for wandering souls.

I tell my lover, to make her aware.

She never hesitates to let me be.

She, alone, understands the expelling of, demons, no one else can see.

It is not mystique I seek.

Nor, blind guidance, from sacred places.

It is the silence that can only be found by…

pursuing to understand…

Understand something that will never be…

Never be completely understood.

Yet, the quest stays like a solemn secret stage.

A critiqued, columned, colloquial,

in which peace is at play.


Black Friday Dealings

Remember when…

Many years ago…

You were proud to be an American?

There were at least four other store shootings during the first holiday shopping weekend. Employees tried to intervene in a domestic dispute that turned deadly at a Florida Walmart, when a man fatally shot a woman multiple before turning the gun on himself. In New Jersey, a man was shot in the wrist at a mall on Black Friday — but no suspect has been identified, and officials say the victim is not helping their investigative efforts. Shots also rang out at malls in Tennessee and Mississippi.

the Trace

Holiday Road

Holiday road?

Where to now?


We have grappled with the gravel.

Tampered with tundras of tempered terrain.

Sought sanity whilst being…insane.

Ultimately, it has been love that has sustained.


For sale signs on plots where we go.

Foreclosure on trails…due to snow.


Holiday road, black and blue, beyond repair.

Holiday road, this year, I will take a different deviation.

Seeking simply for nothing in return but natural