Christmas Eve
Santa Claus didn't come
We locked doors and have no chimney
"No presents please
Let's keep what we have
No more, no less"
Christmas Day
Jesus was born again
Not in Bethlehem, Judea  
But this time
in Columbus, Ohio
(Or anywhere you prefer)
He brought rain in December
He wanted to start fresh
"Be the day a perfect one"
So it was
Christmas night
I went to a friend's house
Met a new cousin by name
Christmas party
Holiday spirits
Generous food
Girls' oval table talks
While driving back, I was alone
in the dark night
listening to radio, Dickens'
"A Christmas Carol"
Missed the turn to Cosgray
A sharp digression on Ring Road
But I made it home safe
I made the journey home—by myself
Christmas time is a good time
A sense of renewal in demand  
Life is too brief to get old
or to complain or fret
Only Jesus is capable of
being reborn each year
Life is precious

There stands us—
In between
The grand scheme
Of the Universe
And the infinite small
Of the cell
There stands us—
Our little garden
And our cats

Our struggles
Our labors
And our attachments

Our past
Our future
And our hesitance

There stands us—
One hand holds
The body
Another hand, the soul
And our eyes
Looking at the star

There stands us—
Among 6,000 words
Of descriptions of
Our emotions
We have to make
A decision
Do we choose to be
Joyful or inconsolable
Magnificent or insignificant

There stands us—
Ready to shape the world
Or, at least
Shape ourselves
And nurture the backyard

Could I keep this moment
When the dance floor is full
And an apple martinis is ready
No need to be too serious
to forget having a drink
Go to dance, until you feet hurt
And look at the bride's eyes
That deep set of Indian eyes
Imbibe her happiness deliciously
As if it's yours tonight   
Even without a bridegroom

Yesterday
I worked whole day
and partied at night
Finals come today
Poetry suffered
Poetry lingered still
Poetry is a luxurious thing
definitely
No one
should take luxury lightly
Being rich
isn't just being lucky
or being smart
Rich people get up early
Rich people have a goal
Rich people hustle
Rich people stick
Rich people work the hardest
Rich people work the hardest
I'm not one of them yet
But I will
I will

Light, I hold on to it
My heart's contain
Like a glass prism
A rainbow of colors sifts
through it, undulating
and glowing with radiance
You and I have all colors
Primary and secondary
And a thousand other
tints, dark or bright
We find our positions
and make our decisions
But whatever is shining
It's the sun, not us
Don't make mistakes
From it, we see the truth
Our eyes could be blind
But our hearts are wise
When the day comes
We should appreciate
Let the light be our guide
and show us the way
Even a genius needs it

winter
had been
an indoor
reminiscence
until a black thunder
knocked the door
open and rushed in
with stirring
freshness

A child's game
was interrupted
rather suddenly
To resume the play
it may take up to
fifty or sixty years
or a lifetime most likely