A Christmas Eve's Dropping...
We go roundabout to church on Christmas eve,
drive by-ing and gawking at lawns and stucco porticos,
Where blessed Mothers and Fathers all praying
that the sleeping babe won’t wake,
Who are also posed to sush the Three Kings in Law
who’ve just arrived, doting, bearing spoiling gifts,
While the shepherd and his sheep,
are content to remain uncounted this easy dreaming night,
all aglow with the warm incandescent bulbs of this Naitivite's’ Holy Spirit
An hour plus later, roaming home, we intrude upon them all again,,
and, still not wishing to wake the foretold blowmold babes of this silent night,
Then roll quietly on, into our own drive,
ready to brace the cold, to preheat the oven,
And there to bake our own Chirstmas Eve frozen pizza of the seven fishes,
and to eat it with anything but communion wine
as the Pope comes on at 11:30
Comes now midnight,
when the neighbors light timers each switch off,
first this yard then that one, electric candles blow out,
And only the moonlight’s glow now shines
on the white Harry Potter ‘expecto patronum’ reindeer,
While too, Home Depot fans desist
in further inflating the stout bouncy Santas
and those Frosty round air snow men,
who each peacefully collapse under purple Van Gogh’s starry starry night,
Happy now, only to be seen from now on only by Waltham’s bleary eyed dui revelers,
who, shut out after last call, drive by without headlights, and too fast,
Soon too to collapse on couches, chairs, the floor, their beds,
with their heartfelt blessings of the Church of this Holy Night’s Noel Drunkards,
It it peace?
We’re asleep, no more tonight,
Good Night
