Jennifer Z. Major
A birthday poem.
T'was the night before 57 And all through the house Not a creature was stirring Not even a mouse.
The Advil was hung on the counter with care In the hopes that Saint Amazon Soon would be there. The children were nestled all snug in their PS4s While visions of sugar-plums danced in their...doors?
And mamma at her 'laptop, and I at my...well, laptop Had just settled down for a long lockdown's Netflix binge. When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the driveway I flew like a flash
Tore open the shutters and tripped over the trash. The moon on the breast of the new-fallen pollen Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects so dear, When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a shiny delivery truck and eight tiny...speeding tickets.
With a little old driver, so lively and quick, I knew in a moment it wasn't St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came, And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name.
Now, FEDEX! now, AMAZON! now, CANADA POST! On, PUROLATOR! on USPS!, on GUY WITH A CAR !
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall! Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!
Seriously, just leave the chocolate and go. I mean it. I'm fried. Happy Birthday to me.