It’s the day after Christmas

It’s the day after Christmas,
all the cakes are on sale,
and the carrier is burdened
with an extra day’s mail

and the children are cranky
from their less well slept sleep
and the trash overflows
from the ribbon strewn heap

and i wonder, as always
what we keep in our hearts,
as we go back to bargains
and cheap quicky-marts

will the spirit of Christmas
settle into our soul? Will
the meaning of Love
finally render us whole?

LBM 12/26/2015

December Woods, the photograph (mine) I remember. The poem I do not. Thanks Flickr.