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| Not silver bells |
Silver Knells
(don’t take it too seriously … really) Marthe G. Walsh
Hurry scurry, festive flurry,
with a holiday flare,
extra effort to make all things pretty,
divine presence or just nonsense,
we could all use a break,
and a pause from that app meant to sell …
scented cones, plum-ey scones,
it’s profit time at the groc’ry,
jing-a-ling, cashiers sing,
seasonal overtime pay.
In the kitchen, there’s fried chicken
and twelve turkeys prepared
for the shoppers too stressed for home cooking;
see the carts roll, truffle tart stroll,
toddlers making a scene,
and around all a myth mingling spell …
scented cones, plum-ey scones,
it’s profit time at the groc’ry,
jing-a-ling, cashiers sing,
seasonal overtime pay.
On the flat roof, there’s no real proof,
of an elvish night flight,
just a sale sign with icicles jolly;
the menorah’s in the lobby
near the Kwanza display,
and the waft through packed aisles you might smell …
scented cones, plum-ey scones,
it’s profit time at the groc’ry,
jing-a-ling, cashiers sing,
seasonal overtime pay.
Time for a humor break. Thanks, Marthe.
