I have officially stopped traveling to Wishland
with its ribbonned packages
and smells of favorite fluff
like anise biscotti
and steamy coffee mugs, and creamy concoctions
created for my pleasure.
I now wake with a hunger that has no name
for that rare occurrence
when the earth tilts on its axis
and the firmament goes back
to the day its orbit
smiled on us.
Perhaps a snow day would suffice.
*snow is a rare occurrence on these shores
