I’m not a huge fan of Shel Silverstein or his works, but he
did write a few poems that strike a resonant chord with me. One of these is called
“Merry:”
No one's hangin' stockin's up,
No one's bakin' pie,
No one's lookin' up to see
A new star in the sky.
No one's talkin' brotherhood,
No one's givin' gifts,
And no one loves a Christmas tree
On March the twenty-fifth.
Christmas trees aren’t the only things that lose their charm
after three or four months. It’s well past March 25, but it still looks like a
winter wonderland here. The snow in the yard is taller than my dogs, so they’ve
taken to relieving themselves indoors. John shoveled several times yesterday,
but I’m not sure the letter carrier can reach our mailbox today. And Easter is four
days away! Maybe, if we’re lucky, we can hunt for eggs on Mother’s Day.
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