In the Escher spirit of circular art with a touch of the Melvinian correction of a fine story I once again offer you a simple gift of what to give yourself for Christmas.

A Christmas Sonnet to Answer Wordsworth

Savor the world so much more with us; now and soon,

Yet, getting and spending can waste dim our powers,

Without Nature's Soul healing ours

By routing it towards the young to enjoy the boon

Warm the maiden, who bares her bosom to the last moon.

Run into icy stinging wind in the twilight hours,

Gathering up all of winters wild flowers

To the worlds ardent task will keep us in tune.

Given freely ourselves to the fruitful fervent chore:

May all enjoy simple pleasures of the finest things.

Still whims of fashion are not the only golden lore,

Of songs about Love's granted gifts a child sings.

So we are not lost in the grind, become a bore,

First find the finest pleasures in the simple things.


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