December 24, 1997
‘Tis the day before Christmas, and all morning long
The fruitflies and fieldmice are raising their song
In a house fraught with last-minute loose ends and clutter
At a feast of burnt cookies, and crumbs in the butter
. . . .
On a day when each family gathers together
Or, drives to a service in all kinds of weather
And, the baked goods get set on the crystal glass plate
The working girl worries that she will be late
. . . .
For shopping, for wrapping, for tieing the bows
On gifts that are purchased before the stores close
In that hour and ten minutes left in the week
Between teaching, and coaching, and checking the leak
. . . .
In the front winter tire that broke the beer bottle
When she hit the ground running, and lay on the throttle
Beating time on a ten-day-old ticket to pay for
Odd-parking the car on the even-side day.
. . . .
She could tell you about the big trip to the West coast
(That summer vacation of which all teachers boast
For they know, just as well, that their jobs are much harder
Than sorting the laundry or stocking the larder)
. . . .
She could rave, on and on, about concerts and shows
And, the fifty-nine middle-school kids’ highs and lows
When the Superintendent said: “Sing, here, for us!”
One puker, two fainters, they’d packed on the bus
. . . .
To raise “Hallelujah!” for folks in a rest home
On the last day of school (the lead tenor stayed home)
She could say that they sounded like cherubs, but, hey!
This woman was glad just to get through the day
. . . .
So, the dishes are soaking, again, in the sink
With a promise to wash….themselves (I think)
And, the laundry holds court, on top of the bed
And, the bakery will hold nineteen cookies, they said
. . . .
If they close by three-thirty, and I get there by two
I can have pine-nut clusters to share with you
Sometime between Christmas and New Year’s Day
When I think about you, and the things I would say
. . . .
If I could, and I should have, on your Christmas card
Which I did not send [ have me feathered and tarred ]
‘Cause, I love you, and need you, and want you to know
That, when I have time, I will tell you so
. . . .
But, the kitchen’s a mess, and the brain is in drive
And, the world spins around, and we stay alive
By the grace of the God, who forgives us all
In spite of the house mice, who live in the wall
. . . .
So, call me, and write me, and email me, too
I’m online – and, out of line, asking of you
But, time passes quicker, the older we get —
Stay in touch: littlebarefeet@webtv.net*
.
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Happy New Year!
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© Ruth Ann Scanzillo
1997
all rights. *address now defunct.
