Christmas
After the storms
T'was the night before Christmas and all through our town,
No noses were frozen, no snow fluttered down.
No children in flannels were tucked into bed;
They all wore their shorty pajamas instead.
To find wreaths of holly was not very hard,
for holly trees sprouted right in the backyard.
In front of the houses were daddies and moms,
Picking up trailer parts and coconut palms.
The slumbering kiddies wee dreaming in glee,
and hoped they'd find the water gone from under the tree.
They all knew that Santa was well on his way,
in a power speed boat instead of a sleigh.
And soon he arrived and started to work,
He hadn't a second to linger or to shirk.
He whizzed over the beaches, dodging the toads
on a shiny new bicycle delivering his loads.
The tropical moon gave the city a glow
and hid from Santa Frances and Jeanne's big blows.
As he jumped to the job, he gave a wee chuckle.
He was dressed in Bermudas with an Ivy League buckle.
There weren't any chimneys, heck there was hardly a room,
for Santa to place toys mid all the gloom.
He stopped at each house and stopped only a minute
and emptied his sack of the stuff that was in it.
Before he departed, he treated himself
to a glass of papaya juice left on the shelf.
Then he turned with a jerk and bounced back to the job,
for he still had many more Jack, Jill, and Bobs.
He climbed on his bike and instead of his usual cheer,
he drove through our streets, and wiped away tears.
I was happy to come, and I'm sorry to say,
"Merry Christmas, Florida, I'm glad I can't stay!"
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