oh, my gosh....

The woodstove has ope'd its insatiable maw,
Spruce, birch, and hemlock, it devours them all.
Whole, halved, or quartered, no matter the form,
I'm stuffin' them in, trying to stay warm.


The tree is upright, decorated and bright,





As snow falls outside, in fading blue light.

The window's adorned in pine cones and bright red,

"It's almost Christmas" sounds in my head.

"Oh, no, oh my gosh," I sputter in fright,

"I have to bake cookies, stay up all night!"

And now look at this, I can't work in this mess,

But it's time to bake cookies, nevertheless.


Someone told me the radio said,

"Don't play outdoors, the weather's too bad."

I look out the window, then open the door,

Freshening breezes blow snow to my floor.

Don't play outdoors? Now, how can that be?

I KNOW that it's snowing--looks perfect to me.

The daylight fades quickly on these shortest days,

Bringing nighttime for the rabbits to play.

They circle my house, run under the deck,

Criss-cross my driveway, bounce all over heck.

Occasional tracks of squirrel and grouse,

Puncture the snow all around my house.

Christmas will be here in only two days

Whether my house is neat or in disarray.

Listen to Noels and don't stress the mess,

As it's time to bake cookies, nevertheless.

Mooseletoe...

(Sincere apologies for the preceding. I think the muse has been testing the apricot brandy that's supposed to go in the pound cake. This will do nothing towards advancing my life's mission to rescue doggerel from the literary gutter and raise it to an acceptable form of artistic expression.)