BR: The Evening of Christmas
Archive, 1982
’Twas the evening of Christmas—from the den to the kitchen,
Not a creature was stirring, not in their condition.
The Christmas debris lay in layers, or strata,
And the kitchen looked like it had seen a tornata.
The moon on the breast of the snow in the yard
Illumined the gifts of the guests’ St. Bernard.
The children were sulking: they had been sent upstairs
…