Most of this twenty-first century and the last few years of the twentieth, I wrote an annual Christmas poem. Some were better than others and some possibly down right corny however, it was part of a tradition that was expected on Christmas day.

For 33 years, minus the past two when ‘the virus’ interrupted many traditions, we have celebrated Christmas with our British friends, Tony and Jen. Jen always made the traditional Christmas meal with all the British favorites turkey, fresh-made rolls, roasted potatoes, bread sauce, Christmas plum pudding which was doused in brandy and set ablaze.

One year, Jen wrote ditty and by coincidence I did too; they were just short little poems about the Christmas season. So for the next few years it was a challenge to produce a new one. Year after year the poems became longer and more elaborate. After a few years Jen bowed out, saying she would leave the tradition to me. So I continued.

Every year a poem would start brewing in my heart somewhere around Thanksgiving. I would start gathering thoughts in my mind and occasionally write down snippets, but the actual assembly of those thoughts came together on Christmas Eve when my poems were actually written. I would be in a rush to finish them; they were often typed and printed just minutes before we had to leave.

The first ‘virus year’ even though we did not gather to celebrate, I still wrote a poem. Last year I had nothing to give and this year it appears the prose in my heart have gone cold once again.

Twenty twenty-two was a tough year for many close to me. Tough is really an understatement for the tragedies they have endured. So with that in mind, I am sharing my poem from 2013 (a tough year for me) and hope that whatever is going on in your life, you can look around you and still find the joy and blessings this season brings.