even

this is it.
the deep breath before the plunge.
the top of the roller coaster.
the slowest section before the rush.
last-minute shopping isn't even an option, duders.
there is only this moment,
and we're here,
in old lyme, connecticut,
making the minutes matter a mite more.
widow's mite-type gift giving, an' that.
c'mon.
what's poppin'?
a leisurely morning at my in-laws,
with my darling daughters and lovely wifey.
big fun, and bathrobes,
are what's happening.
really.
the whirling winds of change,
and war,
are blowing outside,
and the chill from all of that makes the indoors
and the family times seem warmer by comparison.
the weather outside is frightful,
but inside, son,
it's SO delightful.
inside the car, i mean.
that;s about all i've even seen of the down here-ness.
driving across the state.
over and over and over.
how much of connecticut is there to see?
too much,
and for a small state (#3 on the smallness scale)
there sure are a sh!t-ton of roads to travel on.
riding.
not sledding,
not dashing through the snow.
driving.
here, there, and everywhere.
the creatures, neighbors, are stirring.
restlessly.
myself included.
less rest, and more of this.
all of it, even.
on est ensemble.
we are together.
there may be time for more documentation.
but only if the mutha-flippin' road gets shorter.
XI-mas.
all the way.
soldierly sojourns to the 'sauce.
happy times to you, and yours,
from the warrior poets of the woodsly goodness-
jingling;
ever silent, ever night.....