Christmas comes and goes.

Between holidays: a sort of limbo

There is false movement across the valley tonight.
I am waiting for a new beginning and I have one on order;
bigger and brighter, faster and bluer than anything

before it, and more than half mine. For now, though,
the noise of the old is comforting. In a chorus
with phasers and warp speed it could be taking off

itself. I am tied to a history that is recorded
as someone's noisy vision of a future
but my present is still lights, red and gold.