By Michelle Garren Flye
Merry Christmas we cry,
Admiring our tree,
Wishing we could fly
But there’s nowhere left to flee.
The soft glow of white light
Illuminates our night’s work:
Vision of loveliness to our sight
While we ignore what’s in the mirk.
It’s the last of 2020,
The year everything went berserk.
We know that our fates
Rest on whatever comes next,
On untested dates
That still may be hexed.
Maybe, just maybe, our lives will get better?
Maybe we’ll get past this year that was cursed?
Whatever lies in wait is just round the corner—
No time to waste, we plunge in headfirst!
Never mind, doesn’t matter; this year’s a goner.