Here Comes the Sun
bright and yellow, glinting over the horizon,
making the snow glare. Each step, brings the crunch,
crunch of ice beneath my feet. Winter
is a reprieve. We stand side-by-side,
watching our breath curl, smoky, into the air, listening
the whisk, whisk, whisk of the saw,
the rich scent of sap perfuming
as the tree collapses in a spray evergreen needles.
Brother shoulders his shotgun
takes hold of the trunk; I holster
my revolver and take hold of the top;
together we trudge back to the house,
carefully picking our steps, afraid of stumbling
upon a slow moving, half frozen undead corpse
hidden by the deceptive innocence
of fluffy white snow. We try not to think
of the one bite, the one bite sunk into an ankle
that would mean death and ruin.
We drag the tree into the house, tip it
into the corner, lock it into it's base.
We don't bother with lights, saving
the generator for other uses, but we string
ribbon upon its boughs, and each survivor
chooses a handful of ornaments to hang.
Uncle Frank breaks out his horded champagne.
Glasses fill and we smile wistful smiles, wishing each other
a very Merry Chirstmas at the end of the world.
* * *
This was written therealljidol's free topics, "Here Comes the Sun" and "Zombie Christmas."
I'm currently curled up in my pajamas at the in-law's house in Clear Lake. I can hear the family up and moving about downstairs, hanging out around the Christmas trees, and it occurs to me that this would be a good place to survive the zombie uprising from, specially since my brother-in-law likes shooting, so we're well stocked on guns. (^_^)
Have a Very Zombie Christmas!
making the snow glare. Each step, brings the crunch,
crunch of ice beneath my feet. Winter
is a reprieve. We stand side-by-side,
watching our breath curl, smoky, into the air, listening
the whisk, whisk, whisk of the saw,
the rich scent of sap perfuming
as the tree collapses in a spray evergreen needles.
Brother shoulders his shotgun
takes hold of the trunk; I holster
my revolver and take hold of the top;
together we trudge back to the house,
carefully picking our steps, afraid of stumbling
upon a slow moving, half frozen undead corpse
hidden by the deceptive innocence
of fluffy white snow. We try not to think
of the one bite, the one bite sunk into an ankle
that would mean death and ruin.
We drag the tree into the house, tip it
into the corner, lock it into it's base.
We don't bother with lights, saving
the generator for other uses, but we string
ribbon upon its boughs, and each survivor
chooses a handful of ornaments to hang.
Uncle Frank breaks out his horded champagne.
Glasses fill and we smile wistful smiles, wishing each other
a very Merry Chirstmas at the end of the world.
* * *
This was written therealljidol's free topics, "Here Comes the Sun" and "Zombie Christmas."
I'm currently curled up in my pajamas at the in-law's house in Clear Lake. I can hear the family up and moving about downstairs, hanging out around the Christmas trees, and it occurs to me that this would be a good place to survive the zombie uprising from, specially since my brother-in-law likes shooting, so we're well stocked on guns. (^_^)
Have a Very Zombie Christmas!