In The Cigar Box

Today is the annual day of reflection.   For me two small events that occurred on November 14, the day following the Paris attack, represent the despair and the hope left by 2015. No one was singing the words.   Everyone knew the song and felt its plaintive prayer course through their souls.   Ordinary people gathered beyond the yellow tape encircling the ordinary places people go, ordinary places that became killing fields.   Near the entrance to Bataclan Concert Hall where scores of people perished, Davide Martello pedaled his bike, his grand piano in tow.   He stopped, sat on the piano bench so his fingers could urge the keys to comfort the bewildered, bemired, beleaguered crowd who longed to Imagine .   The night that preceded this dawning day was filled with exploding tweets and posts as the facts, conjectures and theories raced through the same web used to recruit willing killers and to coordinate this attack on humanity.   Searchers loo...

I'm late with this but in keeping with my recent tradition, this post is from our Christmas card for 2015.  It is the latest chapter in our practice of writing a poem and pairing it with an image on the face of the card.  Many past poems have been longer or told a story.  This year, haiku seemed right because the form forces few words to work extra hard in conveying the message.  2015 will be remembered for many things, both for good and ill, but I'll remember it as the year of too many words and too many meaningful messages lost. So, here is a photo of the front of our card with the poem following.  We wish you all the happiest of holiday seasons, Christmas for us,  but to each of you in whatever faith tradition you follow. New snow - new chance for black and brown, mottled and white to sit together. -- td