A Farm Visit from St. Nick
With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore for adulterating his poetry ...
'Twas the day before Christmas, when all through the farm
Every creature was stirring in the field and the barn;
The horses whinnied, the donkeys brayed,
And the cats chased mice in round bales of hay.
The cattle on the hillside roamed and wandered
While goats climbed everything from here to yonder.
And I bundled tight in my coat, gloves and cap,
Had my pup nestled snuggly, his chin on my lap.
Together we sat in an unplugged world
As the sun set low on a dog and his girl.
The only tweets tweeted were the ones from the birds;
The only posts posted were in fences for the herds.
Everyone was a friend without making a request;
The only blue tooth was in the ol' farmer due west.
And all became quiet as the moon rose bright
O'er the pond as the day slipped into night.
When way in the pasture a commotion transpired,
And we looked to see something snagged in barbed wire!
The critters and I scurried for a closer look
To find an old man covered in more than ashes and soot.
His red coat was caught by barbs at the hem
And filthier he grew as he wrestled with them.
When he turned 'round to see his audience in awe,
He smiled and relented to a helpful hand and paw.
As we went to work on freeing the gent,
He told how he reached his predicament.
"I was done with my duties this Christmas Eve
And thought how much of the world doesn't believe
In me or themselves or each other anymore,
How Virginias don't write letters or leave cookies by the door;
How some kids demand outlandish trinkets and toys
When they've already got more than most girls and boys;
How adults fight the same battles in different wars
In town halls and frontlines and living room floors;
And as my natural merriment dimmed
I noticed this farm and that barn and then
I decided to stop, let my team rest awhile;
Get some fresh country air to regain my smile.
But I left my eyeglasses in the seat of the sleigh
And I can't see a thing, not cow patty or hay!
At my age, it seems all that exists
Is hunting my glasses and writing down lists!"
We talked and we laughed, and his twinkle returned
And the world really wasn't so bad, we discerned
For there'll always be some who demand and fight
But some are not most; wrong won't conquer right.
For Virginias are real, and Santa is, too,
Even when covered in ash, soot and poo.
"Let me get Uncle Ron and tell him you're here!"
"I've got to be getting on home now, m'dear."
And as he whistled for his team, I heard him remark,
"The missus sees this, I won't be allowed out passed dark!"
NAN Our Town on 12/22/2016