I want to be a bear,
to growl a lot and wear
some fur, and fuzzy socks
with foxes’ heads on them,
and I want to curl in bed,
sleeping deeply until Spring.
Long nights are a-coming to get me,
the long dress rehearsals for
Friday’s merriments, the after-dinner mints
are out-of-bounds for the singer’s throat now,
just hot tea, honey and the occasional
self-slap across the face to stay awake.
The deep sleep won’t wait for me
after the big concert; the big dance troupe
awaits for its post-worthy pictures
I must take on Saturday night.
And Hanukkah! Sweet Hanukkah,
ah, those crazy 8 nights…
On Sunday I should join in the fun
at the in-laws; no, I haven’t forgotten them.
Words come out in spurts,
as I try to capture and hold them still
for long enough, so I can do my work,
my head still spins, and the blues
play loudly in my head,
coloring my mood to rare indigo,
during these times of sheer madness
when peace and love should be
the only things of importance.