Reflections on “‍black Friday‍”.

Untitled Poem

The mountain air, so crisp and clear;
The cries of teens, so clear to hear;
The rugged way, the mud, the ice;
The crowds of people, not all nice;
The o’er stuffed lot of vans and cars;
The asphalt, made of stones and tars;
The people cutting Christmas trees;
The jerks, the saints, the flirts who tease;
The sales, with savings at such cost!
You see just one? Think what you’ve lost!