November 30 - Exit Poem
As November ends, and December
looms, the exit numbers continue
to rise until they lose meaning but
to each number a name is attached,
some famous, others infamous,
but most relatively anonymous
known only to family and friends.
So far, we have been spared
immediate grief but it feels
like it is only a matter of time.
The aptly named Black Friday
passed with little more than a
ripple as it is hard to catch the
holiday spirit with everyone
isolated in one way or another
and we are not sacrificing a tree
at home, this year as our family
gathering will be at the in-laws.
Unfortunately, our daughter will
not be with us as they are caught
in the Atlantic bubble.
But there are only thirty-one days
to December and in twenty-one
days, daylength will again increase.
The latest news on vaccines is
promising, so as we meet the
coming New Year, we will all
Skype together raising our
glasses of non-virtual spirits
high as we bid farewell to the
year which Christmas forgot.
Copyright © D.W. Rodgers | Year Posted 2020
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