Snowdrifts in Cocoa

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For the lonely this season…


Materialism can ruin

this time of year,

depression can sneak in

when remembering ones

departed and dear

or focusing on the absence of

the presence of home

surrounded by people

who think they know


but if you step back

and take in

the peacefulness

of the soft

falling snow

and glow

of incandescent bulbs,

the aromas

of spices in frothy lattes,

the feel of flannels and fleeces

gently hugging,


your naked vulnerabilities,

it is rather easy

to let the

soul-soothing magic

and wonder

of the season

sink in and coat

the rawness

caused by a

hopelessness infection.

Perhaps you don’t need

love beside you

to acknowledge its existence

and be moved by its possible

return, entrance

into your life

in the near future.

The memories

that arise from the

holiday radio

may not fill you

like marshmallow-melting cocoa,

but there is something

in the swirling

in that cup

that dreams up

clouds, snowdrifts

of what-ifs,

and you allow yourself

to wish

once again

because Santa may not be real

but the spirit is

and lives on.

The sleigh bells ring.

I still hear them.

Love is coming.

I can feel it.



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