Woah get out the coats my meteorologist says 85 Friday, 87 Saturday, 86 Sunday.

---- A Cold Christmas Nights Dream.

I was dreaming last night, and it must have been a lie. It was about a long time away. It was cold outside, and a coal stove stood in the dining area. Grandma put some ironing irons and bricks on top of the stove. When they were hot, she wrapped them in work clothes. She sent me to bed and put the irons and bricks in bed with me. Grandpa had taken the battery out of the car and hooked it to his radio. I could hear the Joe Louis and Rocky Marciano fight from my bed. I heard the Friday Night Fights is on the Air and the Gillette parrot squawked look sharp, Feel sharp. be sharp.

  I did not remember who won as I went to sleep, and the coal oil lamps were out or turned very low. On waking there was frost on my pillow, but the irons were still warm. The windmill gonged as the tail shifted directions as the night breeze stirred. I could see a full moon going down and I did not want it to go away. The outhouse was out yonder, way out yonder. Soon the cows would moo and the rooster crow summoning grandma who would summon me to fetch the buckets and meet her at the corral.

M. Mercer

 To the tune of the Green Berets!

Only Jesus knows, this is a Christmas song.

So, close your mind, and drift along, as I silent sing.

A Christmas song, just from us, to him.

Only he, knows our heart, as cold, as it is.

Must be hard, for you to hear, the lies and see, the broken hearts.

I see, I did not do. my best and, broke your heart.

I see, a celebration, coming but, I think you, are the most left out.

So this silent, Christmas song, is just for you.

Tell your mother, thank you, from us for you.

You are my hope, for love and peace, so happy birthday, I silent sing.

MM

 

      A few years ago Christmas went like the following. Only one lie in it.                                 

                                    Remembering Navidad en Mexico!

   With the spouse in the States for Christmas visiting the grandkids I plan my solo Christmas day from Jocotepec Mexico.

   “I saddle Ned in the starlight before dawn and pull the rein from the loop. Mount and ride in a low lope toward San Juan Cosala.

  Coffee in the early light with the Mexicans gathered around a street fire on the carretera just north of the hot baths. Burning and smoldering fires are all along the way. Don't know their meaning jus' know it happens every year.

  Back aboard headin' for Ajijic, I find smoldering fires on Zaragoza and down Colon as I head for the pier. The plaza is empty, but I see the cleanin' crew through the open Music Box door. I'll help um’ open the bar bout ten, after I check the lake level as is my custom every trip here.

  Park ole Ned by the tree in front of the Old Posada and walk in the bright sundown the pier toward the calm water. Seems the lake level is similar to last year but the lirio is not here. Beautiful mountains and the lake before me makin’ the day more than worthwhile. I step up close to the end of the pier and below on the ledge four feet down lovers on a bed of clothes are ignoring the morning cold. Unobserved I depart with envy knowing someone is getting a nice Christmas gift.

  Back up at the bar before I finish my second beer, the usual crowd appears. We have a few rounds, beer, flavored tequila, and a Feliz Navidad or two.  Long about a quarter of twelve I bid a farewell and mount Ned. Head east to Chapala, the old rail head, and beyond to a place they call the Eagle on the east side of town. 

  The turkey is stuffed and friends all around. Red wine and fine women with nice scents make the round. Makes me miss my lady but remember what she is about. Merry Christmas, I pray all remember what it is all about.

   Cool evening, I pull the jacket from the saddle, climb aboard and head for the west end of the lake. Half Moon and Christmas fires light my way. Ned has big eyes and sees, before long I spot my white casa a quarter mile away.

  I talk to the dog and milk the cat. Sometime round the middle of the night I bed down and think on the day. Most folks were mild and calm though some had a little too much drink. I think about the meaning of today, my dad, my daughters, and sons, I spect' it all boils up as one. I’ve always said the Mexicans are God protected but I think I may be too."

  M. Mercer

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