Now that it is all over until next year (!) here is a Christmassy poem by Tess Kincaid

There’s a place for us,
an oasis between fruitcake
and watering the tree,
with hot-and-cold running kisses,
that stretch restless,
from the hearth
out to the snow,
where I push you back pink
and holiday-faced,
knowing this smiling garland
around our necks
links forever compatible.

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