|After The Rain|
It is a grey December evening.
The air remains chilled after the weekend rains.
The ground is wet and the mud has its signature everywhere.
The atmosphere is chaotic; the big lorry just blocked the little car from exiting.
Voices are raised and engines have been shut off.
I wish I could get out of the vehicle and just walk-on home,
but the dark clouds have descended upon the skies again.
It is about to pour out loud.
It does not feel much like Christmas.
The air feels so stuffy from the June-November drama,
I just cannot seem to shake off.
Chestnuts are not roasting on an open fire but, O come O come Emmanuel .
This Christmas could be the one …