Small-Town Christmas

Shallow wreaths of smoke,
Hang low over cluttered collections
Of blotchy slates and stone walls.
Lines of dim lights hang,
Hunched between narrow streets,
Swaying in the December breeze.
Tinsel and plastic holly
Deck the shop windows,
Laid on beds of snowy cotton.
From a speaker on the corner,
Christmas carols and merry melodies
Echo through the half-filled streets.

On the town square,
Bare branched trees sparkle
With festive lights, and
Line its curving circumference.
Santa waves down on passers-by
From the high brow of
The government buildings.
Saint Brendan oversees,
All the seasons clutter
From his high perch
Untouched by Yuletide spirits.

Beyond the homely, wreathed thresholds,
Behind the frosty window panes,
Amidst the clutter of wrapping paper
And forgotten gifts lying strewn around,
A Christmas tree blinks on and off,
The dancing lights and tissue paper,
The Christmas spirit, the roaring fire,
Gently grace the humble household.

Small-Town Christmas is here at last,
Bringing lazy spirits and mulled wine,
Floating low o’er the town,
Sinking in slow.

Small-Town Christmas has come at last.