Shakespeare I am not, but I’ll take a stab (Et tu, Brute?) at a Christmas Sonnet. With a rhyme scheme of abab-cdcd-efef-gg and an iambic pentameter beat that gathers momentum as it rolls toward the finish, this poem is my reflection on the ways we do – and don’t – spend the holiday season. May each of you be blessed today with peace, rest, Alka-Seltzer, Epsom salts, a cozy afghan, and some time for yourself.
Shopping with my belly full of turkey,
its bony carcass cooling in the roaster
Tryptophan has left me less than perky
but deals abound on TV sets and toasters
Stringing up the lights, the ladder rocking,
trying to outshine the neighbors’ twinkle
Putting up the tree and hanging stockings
Icing homemade cookies, adding sprinkles
Stuffing one-rate packages to bursting
Typing out my annual newsletter
Racing to the postal counter, first thing,
and waiting in the snaking line forever
Until the twenty-fifth, it’s GO, GO, GO!
No time to sit and simply watch it snow
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