Dec. 23

by April Anderson

I walk bundled down the street

with 100 other scarfed and mittened

last-minute shoppers.

Lights adorn the lampposts,

music plays at every door,

the falling snow having just enough

magic

to collect on my eyelashes.

I see a crowd of people shivering

on a street corner

waiting for the light to turn green

And I know it is not out of neglect

that one man wears no coat or gloves.

Someone beside him turns

takes off his coat

puts it around the bent man’s

shoulders

and says, almost

apologetically,

Merry Christmas.

And the light in that man’s eyes

outshone every electric bulb

on the street.

I wish every day could be Merry

Christmas.