The Festival of the Last Minute

Another year come and gone; another fifty-two poems on the (metaphorical) page. This next shall bring big changes for me - momentous, earth-shaking changes - but this poetry blog, read or unread, will steadily chug along. I can only hope that it brings you as much joy as it does me. God bless and merry Christmas.


The Festival of the Last Minute

With Christmas close upon us and the rush
of shopping, should it come as a surprise
that charity is buried in a crush
of acquisition. How we idolize

and gather, like a flock of silly sheep,
and straightaway surrender every scrap
of will and wit and intellect we keep
to toe the latest trend. This honeyed trap

entices both the plebeian and prince.
What better way to show your tender care
than with a gift? How better to convince
of love than by the offerings you bear?

But as for me, I'll spend the eve in rest
and seek to be an honest Christmas guest.