My brow furrows.
My strength is already sapped, tapped and overdrafted like a shopaholic's Black Friday credit card.
My shoulders hunch.
Expectations hang overhead like a mistletoed noose ready to choke al the fa-la-la out of my holly-less halls. Jack Frost's not only nipping at my nose, but he's kicking my backside with his busy-bodied snowboot. He's barking at me to drag my procrastinating, pitiful, prostrate behind out of bed. He taps his watch, reminding me it's time to join the hustling and bustling crowd and get a move on. Bah-hum-bug!
My eyelids droop.
Worry, angst and stress cram-pack every nook and cranny of my heart and mind like an overstuffed turkey. I pull covers tight.
My lungs exhale.
My get-up-and-go? Gone. Despite my best aim, I know I'll never hit that elusive Currier and Ives bullseye, so I wave the white flag. I emotionally spiral like draining bath water. Defeat darkens, drowns and deafens doorstep carolers singing joy to my world. It's a silent night and I'm:
a clangless bell.
an unlit candle.
a burnt out yule log.
What's a girl to do?
My knees buckle.
My forehead bows.
My arms unbrace.
I PRAY
...that I'll allow my heart's lens to focus on the true meaning of Christmas and let the wind blow all that hustle and bustle wayside, like:unnoticed snowflakes...
uneaten fruitcake...
unearthed pine needles.
0 Spout:
Post a Comment