Is This Christmas?

Here we are, sitting around the room

or, rather, sitting about the room-

because to sit around is to border

as singers might sing a round

With laughs and conversation,

there's a tree to the side and good food,

we've friends and family,

seems like a pretty good postcard

But these are tangible-

maybe seen in a photograph,

and we're sitting with tension

that runs over days-

For our family is withering,

our tree begs for love,

we converse superficially,

our postcard is faux-

Here on this eve's eve, I hope this for all

that we can see meaning

and slow time to its past-

make this season a wonder once more

Author's Note

reviews, please? critical is fine, better even