Christmas Afternoon

 Christmas Afternoon

Is the white bearded senility with age

That rounds out the raveled year

  With whom and wherever we hold most dear

Before that sleep which wakens queer

  In a wassailing for Spring

Cold and wet, the wassailing for Spring

Christmas is the time for bone aching

Sedentary, watching the fireplace like a Tv set 

  Complaining how the wine isn’t as good as last year

When last year’s wine wasn’t so good either,

   Just as this year’s memories aren’t selected yet

And how many memories

  We’ve yet to forget

Merry Christmas my dear, 

  Bar the wassail cold and wet

Wintergreen

 Wintergreen

Christmas is a blue sky cloud

  Which becomes a something new

And now looks new, a new something new

  With a hinting twist of wintergreen

Our bottle brush tree,

  So called as it came to us in a test tube

And is now taller than I

  With arms grown that reach wider 

Is now all slack-a-limp at ease,

  Coated by a drizzle weighted down

Of winter’s white vanilla frosted glaze

  That’s been applied for several days

Leaving me believing in Christmas cookies, 

  Fresh pine mint and sugar powder flavor,

And a fine respite from the Foole Yoole mayhem

  For we to scratch and sniff and savor