Here we are at the last of our twelve days of Christmas. Thank you for your presence on this winter adventure in words. I hope you, yes, you, have a restful, playful, heartening holiday.
A Partridge in a Pear Tree
On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to mea memory.
Everyone’s lying on the sofas and the floor
stuffed fat with too much food
and he comes in
wearing a borrowed jumper
telling me how cold it is in the garden
I should come and look
I’m playing scrabble with my siblings
but I’m losing so I say
and we walk through the hallway
with its wood chip wallpaper and
The kitchen’s still steamy and the big mirror’s
So I draw us on it.
I make his ears look bigger and
my hair look curlier
and we both have dots for eyes.
We put on some wellies
that are by the back door and
I wrestle with the bolt at the bottom
and then we’re outside
on the patio.
It’s so cold
a cold that I sometimes miss.
It wakes us up.
The sky is
I like it
not too bright
not too blue
not all the time.
We look at the veggie patch and
we don’t find much that
doesn’t look like sticks and twigs.
We go to the pond.
we lift up the wire protector
which keeps the hedgehogs from drowning.
We poke at the ice
but don’t break it
just to see if anything’s moving underneath.
He starts making up a song
I join in
we put the cover back on the pond
so the little ones don’t fall in.
The song sometimes rhymes and
sometimes it doesn’t
and it makes us laugh.
He points to a robin in the holly tree
he points as he sings:
partridge in a pear tree.’