The following brief anthology is in response to Richmond Road’s request that we celebrate December 17th. As we in Australia live in the future, compared to most others, here is my effort to celebrate this day.

December 17 – 1

It’s 6am, the sun now up,

It’s rays poking in under the blinds

The intensity telling me

We are in for another stinker.

She sleeps on for she is not a morning person

I lean over and kiss her bare shoulder

She grunts both in acknowledgement

And a warning to stay away.

I slip from the bed, my ablutions await.

My eyes fall on the wardrobe door

Behind which I have secreted her gift

The dotted paper so in keeping with

All things December 17^th.

I boil the kettle, pour a tea, sit on the balcony

Watching the world wake up,

The kids across the road squeal with delight

As their December 17^th begins.

It’s 6.45, and she sleeps on.

I slide in and cuddle up to her

She brings her arm to press me in close

Then turns and looks at me,

“Only because it is today,” she says

Before we celebrate December 17.

 

December 17^th 2

Twas the night before December 17^th

All was silent around the house

Apart from movement beneath the floor.

The cockroaches were meeting

Planning underway

Goals being set

The night was hot and steamy

Typical of the time of year.

The pickings would be plentiful

It was all systems go.

“Let’s take back everything that’s ours,”

Came the cry from Ivan, the head Roach.

As an army, they swarmed out,

The pantry in their sights.

But they hadn’t counted on booby traps

That lay upon their path,

For they soon succumbed

Each stumbled and then fell

The surface spray too much.

Twas all silent once again

The night before December 17^th.

 

December 17 – 3

The children bounce upon our bed

There is such glee in their voices

As together they extol us to be awake

To celebrate as they well do this very special day.

It’s December 17^th our one day of the year.

Our limbless tree stands proudly

Centre of our lounge room

The children gather round to see what lies beneath.

There are gifts in dotted paper, stripes and circles

We went all out this year,

No expense did we spare.

The youngest opens his gift and squeals in delight

It’s a used wrapper from the year before

He thought we had forgotten.

The eldest eagerly takes hers, rips off the dots and stares

Smiles widely as she holds aloft the toilet brush

Says it’s just what she was wanting.

The wife is keen, takes up her gift

Slowly lifts the sticky tape

Swoons at the sight of the rolling pin

With the dough still plastered on.

My gift is a bag of wood shavings

I hold them tenderly, savouring the moment,

Then announce I will enshrine them

Amongst my trophies in the tool-shed.

Then as a family, we sing our favourite Karol,

 

Noisy Morn, Unholy morn,

Chaos reigns, sun burning down.

Chook half cooked or burnt to a crisp

Stinking hot, sweating like pigs

We fall in the pool, flop around

On this our day of the year.

December 17.

 

December 17 – 4

Today is his one-day of the year

He liked to think of it

As his annual sowing of oats.

He had to smile

For when he was young it all just happened

The urge came, you acted, you achieved.

Nowadays he and his partner have to plan

Agree on the day, put things in place,

Make sure he has the right pills

Are they still in date?

She also has things to arrange,

Like did she want to participate?

Would it take her away from her knitting?

She too looked for the necessary ingredients

The moisturiser, the oils, the inclination.

Gone was the spontaneity,

No matter what the mind might say

The body always needs convincing

But it was their day, they sensed the occasion,

It was up early he hoped,

She hoped so too.

 

Written for: https://theworldofbrutus.com/2018/12/17/december-17-i-almost-missed-it-l/