Thoughts While Writing Out Christmas Cards- Poem #131

Into the mail box
the cards are delivered,
angels, a manger, the star and a lamb
as the rural carrier makes her rounds

listening to the plaintive sounds
the bleats of sheep
the clopping of camels
the shuffle of sandals

coming from the sack of mail
as yet undelivered;
driving her route
stopping at each little tin box

placing deep into the darkness
the donkeys, the sheep,
the wise men, the shepherds
the star

while perched on the dash
a plastic cup o’ Starbucks
emanating a hint of hazelnut
and just a touch of myrrh.


About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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3 Responses to Thoughts While Writing Out Christmas Cards- Poem #131

  1. toritto says:

    Yes readers, I know it’s July but these poetry posts are for my grandson’s book.

    Besides, it’s less than 6 months till Christmas!

    Regards from hot, humid Florida’s Gulf coast.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. beetleypete says:

    He is going to love and treasure that book, Frank. And I hope he saves this poem to read every Christmas, to his own grandchildren.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Jennie says:

    Makes me smile!

    Liked by 1 person

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