Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Tuesday, December 24, 2019

Christmas with the Mrs.

My annual Christmas Eve poem.

Again with apologies to Clement Clarke Moore . . .



On the night before Christmas, long hours ahead
The toddler awake, I’d just got her to bed.
The stockings were hung in a haphazard row,
While Mama assembled new toys just below.

The kids were asleep. Well, except for the last,
Just waiting for morning to get downstairs fast.
I toiled on alone, ‘cause there wasn’t a dad.
I had broken a nail and my language was bad.

From out on the lawn came a very loud sound,
It brought me to my feet, had me looking around.
I flew to the window, and thought as I ran,
‘Are my neighbour’s cats rifling through my garbage can?!’

It was bright (as can only the moon on snow be),
And I narrowed my eyes to be able to see.
And what did I glimpse, coming over the way?
But some deer, all in harness, and a stout little sleigh.

With someone in a coat that looked comfy and soft,
And clearly, some magic to keep them aloft.
They flew like a Michael Schumacher on course,
While the driver attempted some will to enforce.

"Now Baby! Now, Jazzi! Now, Frolic and Jolly!
On, Cherub! On, Angel! On, Kitten and Folly!
I need you to get to the rooftop this time!
And a fine, gentle landing would be so sublime!"

To say that they flew like some leaves past the attic,
Would be perfectly true, it was quite that erratic.
I was holding my breath as they shot toward the sky,
And prayed that my windows and roof would survive.

Then finally (thankfully) up on the roof,
The unmistakable sound of thirty-two hoofs.
Then some noise in the chimney I’d not heard before,
And someone emerged, on their knees, on the floor.

The figure was dressed in a warm, sooty coat,
With some Uggs on their feet and scarf 'round their throat.
With toys, books and clothes in a gi-normous sack,
Which they dropped to the floor with the words, “Oh, my back!”.

And then sparkling eyes were directed at me!
From under a hat that was worn with esprit.
I surprisingly saw, not a lad, but a lass,
Was I scared? Well at first, but soon it would pass.

In white teeth, she had clutched a short pencil end,
And a notebook, she held in one mittened hand.
Her round, wrinkled face shone with laughter and fun,
And I don’t think her happy laugh could be outdone!

She was joyful and glad, and just a bit round,
Her smile made me smile, 'twas so friendly and sound!
She gave me a grin and then winked an eye,
And I knew I was right to bid my fears goodbye.

She didn’t say much, simply nodded my way,
And I watched as she worked – like a pudgy ballet.
She finished her job, made a note in her book,
Then nodded and smiled and her exit she took!

I heard her footsteps as she ran to her sleigh,
Heard her call to her team as they all flew away.
Then this sweet woman cried, as she flew o’er the town,
"Happy Christmas to all, don’t let life get you down!"

Merry Christmas, my friends! And a very Happy New Year!

10 comments:

  1. The very merriest Christmas to you and yours.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Merry Christmas, Diane! Thanks for creating a poem full with a lot of great seasonal imagery.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Christmas is here, and I thank you for this early morning gift.
    I hope your Christmas is packed with love and laughter.

    ReplyDelete
  4. When there's work to be done, it always turns out to be the women who are up to the job, doesn't it.
    Merry Christmas to you, my friend.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I love your take on this classic, Diane! Merry Christmas to you and all the clan :)

    ReplyDelete
  6. What a wonderful adaptation.

    A blessed and beautiful Merry Christmas to you!

    ReplyDelete
  7. I knew it! Too many houses to visit in one night so Santa has help from Mrs Claus! :)
    Merry Christmas.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Of course a married couple works together and supplements one another - and so too Mr. and Mrs. Claus. Thanks for the smiles. Wonderful Christmas to you and yours.

    ReplyDelete

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