Snowbird in a palm beats a partridge in a pear

‘Twas the weeks before Christmas, and all through the mall the shoppers were scurrying, in search of it all.

Garlands were draped in every door in hopes that the shoppers would enter each store.

Silvery paper and ribbons of red, Oh, what visions of packages danced in their heads.

Mama in her faux fur and father in his flannel-lined coat had clutched in their hands the lists that they wrote.

They dashed down each isle in a frenzied search, grabbing each gift with a sort of a lurch.

Then on to the next store they flew like a flash

Using their plastic when they ran out of cash.

The lights on the branches twinkled in rhythm, enticing the shoppers to buy trees – and the ornaments with ‘em.

Then what to their wondering eyes did appear, but a miniature sleigh with mechanical reindeer?

And perched on a throne sat a tired old man, a department store Santa who’d had all he could stand.

Slower than molasses, he tried to stand up, why, he looked more bedraggled than a weary, lost pup.

“My back, my legs, my seat, how they ache,” he said through a beard that was definitely fake.

Then he rose with some effort and hobbled away muttering something about next year, and an increase in pay.

He was gone from mind as soon as from sight, for the shoppers were busy with their own holiday plights.

The list seemed to be growing instead of the reverse and the hours ahead looked increasingly worse.

As each child had grown they added a spouse and now there were grandchildren filling the house.

All these kids will expect gifts ‘neath their Christmas tree.

And their parents still ask, “Are there any for me?”

The shoppers were ready to call it a day. “Surely there must be an easier way to celebrate Christmas now that we’re older, maybe in a place that doesn’t go from cold – to colder.”

“Next year let’s do our shopping along sandy shores; let others stand in line at the crowded mall stores.

A starfish will sit on the top of our tree and garlands of shells will drape gracefully on branches that sway in the light ocean breeze.

Oh! What a holiday that would be.

We’ll pen Christmas postcards from a sunny, deck chair, to say, the weather is awesome, wish you were here – perhaps you can join us this time next year.”

Tags: guest editorial, opinion, superior, christmas