Miracle on Front Street

Four days later, I bring you a glimpse into a few moments of Christmas Eve at our house, through the eyes of my youngest son. He’s got a knack for intriguing lines and word-play, and you’ll enjoy how he schools me in the comment section.

The Monkey Prodigy

The great poet Walt Whitman, I’m sure you heard of him, knew nothing but miracles…and that’s the reason he didn’t know what grass was.

But tonight we have everyone gathered around at my father’s house, by everyone I mean my brothers, I, father, Milton the cat, and figments of my overactive imagination. So, here we are, all gathered together on Christmas Eve on this nearly magical occasion. I am going to ignore everybody for the time being, and write a poem.

staring down at the Christmas lights
you can see life ain’t black and white

Okay, so that’s a line.

We pass the presents around, making way for the futures

Okay, so that’s a line.

Can’t you hear the Christmas bells and whistles.

That’s another line. I’m on a rule.

I don’t really feel like finishing anything with these lines today. I’m starting to realize that this is my favorite…

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3 thoughts on “Miracle on Front Street

  1. I love this idea: that Whitman “knew nothing but miracles…and that’s the reason he didn’t know what grass was.” Nice one!

    Those witty sons of yours are looking so grown up in that banner photo, David. And so much like you!

    Like

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