with the candy canes you purchased in
the drug store late November on your break
from work; shirking the constant carping
on the job; in love with the gold rush angel abras
a snowy candled breeze that Grandmother lit on Sundays;
and was it made of nougat creamed with stars, the hour,
with baby pieces of fruit and orange peel?
the succulent glaze of cherried-pineappled
reels among the glad too early counting
let the dour walls everywhere be hung
with exorbitant holly whilst we are breathing in
the evergreens of the Christmas stand
across the street where you meet up
with your minted mind renewed
munching your way through the entire box,
starting on box number two and
filled with cordial sustenance
and more than these; let the bells reprieve
the wistful children marooned at school
and all unease collapse from the weight
of so much glory and the clouds overfilled
with valentines of snow arrive en masse
till the tyrants sigh we have to have to
let you go.
and we say from our skidding souls
overladen with deep bliss, oh
AT LAST, it's come to this...
mary angela douglas 9 july 2016
P. P.S. No, I don't feel like a marzipan pig at all; they were two SMALL boxes (one of candy canes; the other of cordial chocolate cherries) and anyway, it was almost Christmas (or was going to be, once the snow let up).