A Season of Sweetness

One way to spend this season is to fret that it’s too good to be true,
going around knocking on wood, daring not to say or even think that things are going well, for fear of waking the sleeping giant,
waiting for the shoe to drop,
spending days staring at the sky,
eyes playing tricks, convincing the brain that perhaps a glimmer of a shoelace was seen.

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I See You

I see you thinking about who sat in that chair last year at this time.

I see you watching your beloved with concern about what will happen between now and next Thanksgiving.

I see you being asked how things are, and giving answers that only scratch the surface,

so that this doesn’t go down as the Thanksgiving that you cried in your potatoes and made things awkward.

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Master Piece

It’s as if the sculptor is working backwards, taking a masterpiece and breaking it apart bit by bit, chisel in hand, never seeming to be satisfied with a work of art that was perfect to begin with.

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