Trails were icy slick.
 The spies came in from the cold.
 I wish for palm trees.

 Merry Christmas all.
 Joyous yule logs burning bright.
 The elves are resting.

Christmas Eve again.
 So different this time ‘round.
 Zoom is not “down home”.

 A hard cold wind blew
 down from frigid mountain snow.
 Now days grow longer.

 In between each breath,
 space of quiet emptiness.
 Such is infinite.