Archive - December 23, 2016

CHRISTMAS 1974 by John Moehl (Cameroon 1974-80) Beneath palm tree and mango sit I, thinking of pleasant times done by. Times of laughter, times of zest — but best of all: the time of Christmas. Sun birds search out palm nut’s soft meat; through the rustling fronds their chirping sounds sweet. Yet, how distant it is from Winter’s fine grace, as snow flake and icicle bedeck Nature’s face. Dry season starts, skies filled with Earth’s red dust; a far-away voice fills my soul with forgotten lust. The marvelous sounds of metal runners on ice, a burning cold that is the Northland’s own spice. Down ermine cloaked streets, shoppers do glide; examining each doll and train with professional pride. With a holiday pageant that puts the North Pole to shame, into each shopkeeper’s window comes Santa’s own name. Eves and shutters, windows and sash — all have donned their festive splash. from . . .