#84 A WOMAN'S BRIEFS -- SUNDAY'S THOUGHT ON THE ORIGINAL CHRISTMAS

Here’s a poem I wrote for our 1988 Christmas card:

Born like a young dove

clutched in a nest-glove,

the Babe lies in weakness . . .

Strength’s humble disguise.

Then,

Our land-line phone message that 1988 Christmas season said,

Barb in her kerchief,

Dave in his cap,

had just settled down for a long winter’s nap

when up on the roof there arose such a clatter,

they jumped to their feet to see what was the matter.

That’s the reason they’re not at the phone,

you’ve called at a time when the dogs are alone,

but we’ll gladly respond to your reasons and pleadings;

in the meantime, we wish you our warm Season’s Greetings!

ANY ONE REMEMBER THESE?