Santa has gone, but just for awhile. He shall be back. Don’t listen to the commercials: they bellow and you need to ignore them.
We are fortunate here in our little home, in our little neighborhood: the houses around us, in their Christmas lights, reflect the slowly falling snow flakes. No two are alike and neither are we. Each an individual with separate hopes, plans, dreams.
Snow is the envy of the other seasons. None but Winter, in our part of the world, can claim such a spectacle. The wind blows the flakes at a slant. This makes it seem WE are moving, tonight, to the right.
I hope your past few days have been pleasant. Ours have been.
Good night. You will have dreams of your own making.
I hope mine are placid.