Eucalyptus, pine and succulent wreaths on gates,fancy up the chain link stairs to my cabin.Rains did their best to melt down grosgrain ribbons.Bobcat tore under the side to try at one of the sultans;but ginger bread men act as soldiers in the kitchen. Grandfather's elaborate trains in the basement sold off boxes before we made it to Holyoke.Did the new owners keep the tracks?A tunnel appeared to blow up cars.It's somewhere now. Missing days of believers at home.Mailing letters to Santa, tucked under comforter prayers.This too is passage.Entropy wears on cells..Noble fir stands tall withwhole ornaments fromcalamity of puppies of the pastknocking over trees. Missing that dog's tail.A cross guards over her in the meadow.Mother always says, "I'm doing my best!"With and exclamation point, yes.This too is passage.Holding heart with cheers. Days before Christmas. Copyright Caroline Gerardo 12/19/2016