Log Cabin Chronicles

BOB GERVAIS

Snow Harvest

"Hail, friend!", he said.
His voice was full of cheer;
His nose was red -
"And have a good New Year!"

Knee-deep in snow,
He stumbled as he walked -
"I'm almost drunk, you know!"
He mumbled as he talked.

I looked around me quickly
(lest my oh-so-human pride
leave me feeling sickly)
And tried my face to hide.

Yet, even as I tried to place
My face deep in my hood,
I felt my shame, a tiny trace -
I knew this wasn't good.

Then, suddenly, a whiff of hay
And the odour of cattle dung -
I remembered another, distant day,
And, sadly, my head I hung.

'You're just the kind', said I to me,
'Who finds himself unable,
With heart so blind it cannot see...
To make room in a stable!'

I wheeled around, so resolute
To wish this drunkard,
Dissolute,
A season full of cheer...

He was not there;
The air
Was clear. . .
And cold;
And then I felt,
Quite suddenly, so out of place;
But yet, I swear,
A wisp of straw,
Brushed gently ‘cross my face.

Bob Gervais writes in Ontario

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Copyright © 2007 Bob Gervais