It's 32 degrees in the back yard at 0600 hours, here in Californicatia's Great Suckatomato Valley, and a cold blanket of post holiday joyfulness is slowly, languidly dissipating, leaving mere spiritual emptiness in its place. The only living mammalian life form in the house is the dog (she's a double-coated Husky); its human occupants are as physically cold as the Spirit of Christmas yet-to-come. However, all that burden of bleakness over the prospects of 'Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men' expiatorily shared, I turned on the PC (to generate some modest warmth) and am happy to report that your 2022 poem of 27 Dec warmed the cockles of my heart considerably, Alex. It always elevates my mood to run into examples of equanimous, clear-eyed reasoning amidst all the mindless joyfulness that taking a holiday week off from humanity's inherent homicidal tendencies brings to the kulak bourgoisie, bless their little deluded hearts! You rock, Alex!