At the grocery store today --
these meteors and angels, wise men and all
the beautiful hallucinations of December, wearing
the masks of the Ordinary, the Annoyed, the Tired.
The Disturbed. The Sane
Only the recovering addict with his bucket and bell
has dared to come here without one.
He is Salvation.
His eyes have burned holes
in his radiance.
Instead of a mask, he has unbuttoned his face.
***I have no idea why snowflakes are falling in that last photo that I took outside of my house. There was no snow, and I have no apps or gadgets. Maybe it's a Christmas miracle?