Every December I get requests to reprint my take-off of "Twas the Night Before Christmas," first published in 1988. Read it aloud to the kids after opening presents. Merry Christmas
The Morning of Christmas
(with apologies to Clement C. Moore)
'Twas the morning of Christmas,
And all 'round the house,
The feeders were empty,
Not enough for a mouse.
Each feeder was hung
From its perch with great care,
But on this frosty morning,
The cupboards were bare.
Tubes, trays and suet bags...
Too many to mention.
In the Christmas Eve rush
They'd escaped my attention.
The rising sun on the breast of the new fallen snow,
Accented the vacuum in the feeders below.
I couldn't believe it, I'd stayed up too late.
I'd forgotten my friends on this most special date.
A ravenous flock perched in dawn's early light,
Reminding me clearly of last night's oversight.
Impatient, they perched in an old apple tree,
Famished and anxious, some scolded me.
Ashamed and embarrassed, I flew down the stairs,
I whistled and shouted like a big angry bear.
"Now Linda, now Nora, and Emma, you too.
We've got empty feeders, there's so much to do!"
I spoke no more words, we all went to work,
We filled every feeder, I'd been a real jerk.
The birds quickly forgave me and flocked to the food,
I knew in moment, they'd lost their foul mood.