December Morn

Winds blow hard freezing water into ice, Snowy roads make us think about traveling twice. Inside we’re squeezed together as by a blacksmith’s vise, Winter makes us mind as we are told. Like a mean master whose disposition’s cold Mister Winter treats us like we deserve a good scold Can we be an Oliver Twist who was so bold, and ask, Please Sir may we have no more. Honoring the Christ Child whom many adore Lifting spiritual wings our heart soar, Mundanely, a Santa Claus poem by Clement Clarke Moore Good holidays with pine and mistletoe, Gift nicely tied with fancy ribbon bow, Seen both in Richelieu’s Dordogne chateau Or hovel in Hackney’s poorest row Then mind bending time on New Year's Eve. Wild parties keep us late from taking leave. No DUI’s we hope to receive If so, then in the pokey we will grieve Winds blow hard freezing water into ice,