Cold December-rain!
On the wooden-roof a cadenced-beat
chill-rain
Yonder thumping-rhythm on dark
window-pane
Scratchy woolen-blanket pulled warm in
the cabin-loft
Midnight-dreams hard-coming even in a
comfort-soft
Ma and Pa fast-asleep in bed on the lower
main-floor
The family-secure barred-behind a heavy
oaken-door
Christmas-eve in the offing on the
mountain-meadow farm
Wood-smoke curling from our
stone-chimney evoking-charm
By cold call-of-dawn the liquid-crystal
cold-wet will change to snow
White-fluff on yon mountainside its
beauty-white to grandeur-glow
I’ve been a-whittling on a cedar-bough
straight-true for Pa’s-bow
He’ll snare the wily albino-whitetail
buck to steal the hunter-show
Ma will get the prized-long white-apron
bought from Anita’s General Store
Over-summer I earned two-dollars helping
with cousin’s mercantile-chores
Through black-glass in the attic-wall I
see snowflakes filter softly-by
Slumber gentle-calls after I sneak-down
for a yummy piece of apple-pie
Satiated by the snack I add some
hickory-logs to the fireplace ember-glow
A crackle-pop shoots mock red-rocket
sparks in a splendid holiday-show
Back-to-bed warm-clad in the itchy
woolen-wrap against the winter-chill
Sweet-sleep soft-closed my youthful-eyes
aided by a fruit-treat belly-fill
Fantasy-dreams evaporate on the
pink-blush thrill of a new-dawn
At the frosty-filigree window-pane I spy
a whitetail late-year fawn
Pungent bacon-smells emanate to the
attic-space from the stove-below
Ma’s warm-biscuits baking in the oven
evoke sweet-memories I-know
Pa’s in the ole-barn feeding hay to
live-stock by the-time I finally-arrive
He
smiles around a corncob smoking-pipe and says “It’s good to be-alive!”
Over
breakfast table-prayer we thank-the-Lord
for our daily-bread
“Pa!
Santa comes tonight!” Ma-offered. “Oh! Yeah!” I smiling-said.
And---sure-enough
he-did…to grace poor ole country-folk
with-Love!
Pa treasured his cedar-arrow! Ma! Her-apron!
And---me…heaven-above!
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