It's Christmas week again. And in the aftermath of last year's diminished season, I wrote this poem while thinking of the Grinch. May all of you enjoy far better Holidays this year!
A Yuletide Nod to Dr. Seuss
Last December in Minnesota
the prospect of rain reigned.
Scant chances lived for a white
Christmas or even a sit-down
with a stand-in Santa.
Come the Day itself no Nana
and Papa, but parcel post presents
under the festive tree.
No Uncles Bob and Jake,
Aunts Kelli and Kate, nor any
cousins with new games to play.
Instead, a novel stage set:
a Zoom gathering with herky-jerky
movements and faces frozen
before folks signed off, retreating
to a dinner of discontent, featuring
downsized roast beast.
Still, the people sang the season
but ended their chorus on a sigh, and
from somewhere a catcall floated by
for the virus that stole Christmas.
Marilyn Aschoff Mellor
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