Oddments

In search of story

NORAD-linked

the man in the moon

winks through the treetops:

it’s Christmas soon.

Reconnoitering

for Donner and Vixen,

seeing if any rooftop

needs fixin’.

When brutalities of day

give way

to candlelight of moon

do we find ease

and breathe

stillness?

Or do we ask

is it mere mask

for predator

conspirator

and illness?

Those of us who try to write struggle to find words for the anguish. Maybe there are none.