Written Christmas 2003, when most of the grand-children of Palm Springs Village were still young.

December is here with its Christmas cheer.

Heat waves shimmer and dance
In the still, hot trance of noon.

Lights glimmer on branches of Christmas trees,
In front yards, and on homes. In the evening breeze
We sit in the cool ‘neath the moon.

In the dining hall there’s a tree ornate,
And the tables are festive and merry.

There are streamers and balls and kids decorate
Hall doors with garlands of holly.

There’s planning and hiding and wrapping.

Gifts under the tree pile high,
With grand-parents conspiring and swapping,
As they hunt and select and buy.

There’s the sound of the organ piping
“Silent Night” down the halls in the evening.

There’s sweet voices of children singing
Carols in Christmas greeting.

Yuletide lasts for a week at the Village.

Excitement builds with the heat.

Kids can’t wait wrapped gifts to pillage.

There’s the sound of light, eager feet
In the halls, and shrieks of delight,
All building to Santa’s arrival
On Eve-of-Christmas night.

Santa’s been and bestowed each gift.

The thrill of waiting is past.

We need a moment to lift
Our spirits. It’s Christmas at last –
The day the world shares with us-
But my rejoicing is done.

Christmas Day and the children have gone.

It’s the end of my fun.

In the summer heat I mean to retreat
To the cool of my flat, and that’s that.