December
December is a troubadour singing in celebration
of vanillla-ice skies
snow-cone hills
frost-sculptured window pane
of crackling fire
steaming hot chocolate lamp-lit reading chair
of children laughing,
dragging homeward pine tree
decking it with kindergarten art
candy canes, and flashing lights
hanging hope in a stocking
saying prayers before bed
singing in jubilation as angels
join the song on high
Wilma Gundy
Photo Lloyd Gundy
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Liked your “December” poem. One of the challenges of moving to Southern California has been capturing the spirit of Christmas when so many of the visuals that you associate with that season are missing. Where is the snow?? the sleigh? the sound of sleigh bells? the ice skating? the skiing? hot chocolate? I started my traditional Christmas poem last year, but the spirit deserted me. I’m hoping to make a comeback this year. Gail
I forgot about the huge evergreen tree that used to be in Louge's front yard.Do you remember the year dad took this picture? Was it after the blizzard of 86? The huge tree's in the back yard. WOW!