On the Last Day of Advent

Evening.
Out for the usual walk.
The yards are all aglow.
Though, amid these patchworks of anticipation,
the mind wanders along the shadows in between.

In the summer, Mama passed away,
Daddy is slowing down,
and some days things don’t seem right.

Why are the holidays so haunted?

The path darkens.
The shadows deepen and echo
melancholy whispers of blown leaves
tumbling into the dark.

From out of the shadows
a family crosses the path.
A mother, a father, and
a little boy, who is pointing skyward,
singing, “Twinkle, twinkle, little star… .”

We move on from one another.
Stillness is the sound of
footfall and singing
softly fading into the dark.

Why are the holidays so haunted?

On this last day of Advent,
it appears a star still shines,
angelic voices sing in wonder,
and a child still leads the way.

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