Now Christmas is over...

A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO  ALL AT NEOPOET AND MANY THANKS FOR YOUR POEMS AND COMMENTS IN 2008.  IF I MANAGED TO PUT MY FOOT IN MY MOUTH AT ANY POINT,  PLEASE  FORGIVE AND FORGET (THEN I CAN START DOING IT ALL OVER AGAIN IN 2009...)

The Christmas tree's still here
with its lights and fragile baubles
(thanks to my busy wife)  
and there's the crib as well -
the table-sized nativity -
with bread-crumbs for sand,
silver paper for a stream,
cork-bark for mountains
(and sprinkled flour as snow),
damp moss for vegetation,
and legless  kings and shepherds,
(or even headless), hand-painted,
inherited from countless former generations.

That's the custom in Asturias
(I just found the moss -
my wife did all the rest) .

Christmas trees and Santa
arrived some twenty years ago
and tried to subsitute  old  ways
(like the patient making of a crib
or how the three wise men
brought gifts on January 6th.)

Some lucky kids get presents twice,
so have to write two letters
one to Father Christmas
and another to the Kings.

Now little Santas made in China
climb  balconies of tenth floor flats...

With Anglo influence at home
(don't look at me!)  
we put our presents round the tree
on Christmas Eve, at night,
and open them next day.

Our children used to wake at five,
but didn't dare to unwrap gifts
till we came down, much later;
so they would  sit and contemplate
their future joys,
and whisper,  perhaps imagining
what each bright parcel might contain.  

I wonder if they ever opened things
then wrapped them up again...?

Now, they stay out late,
then sleep till twelve,
so breakfast late as well.
If we're lucky, we coincide at lunch
and chat about old times,
when our family was a  team.

They're home on Christmas Eve
and Christmas Day, of course,
but now they don't get up at five.
Presents may be less exciting
than they once used to be...
 
Next day, when giving's over, they shop
for stylish Spanish clothes or tasty food
to take to distant homes.

In the evenings,  they just  watch T.V.
or chat in bedrooms;
meanwhile, I lose myself in blogs.

So my wife is sometimes left alone
in the lounge,  with lights and mistletoe
(which she put up)
where there are few cards now,
because the people who once sent them
have either died, or lost contact
(as we have with them)  
or send us fancy emails
(quicker, but not the same) .

I remember how (a child in England) 
I would hang our cards on strings
 by using tiny plastic pegs
(sold especially for that purpose)  
then in turn hang the string from a nail,
because there were far too many greetings
to place on shelves and sideboards.
They were part of Christmas decorations,
like torn old cardboard figures hung in corners,
or paper chains we'd made ourselves
or ancient advent calendars
(with doors and windows lost)
which we adored...

At times I tear  myself away from blogs
and scratch my good wife's back;
when one ages,  such attempts at massage
may be a substitute for tiring sex...

As the New Year starts, our 'children'
disappear, back to low-paid jobs -
but to their independence  too...

We bought and cooked good food
(well again, that was my wife)
purchased expensive wine
(at least I did that bit..)
washed and ironed their clothes
lent them our car, cleaned the house
(in the mornings while they slept) ,
chopped logs and built a fire
(hey, I did that, too)
and offered them whatever cash we could
to subsidize their flights -
so hopefully (with such good cheer)   
we'll see them back again next year...

If we ever reach eighty,
we may well have to reconsider
this mainly one-way flow...