Buried B'Neath The Blanket O' White.... Poem by Michael Gale

Buried b'neath the blanket o' white....
Fir pines glittered with snow so right, this night.

Rabbit tracks littered around all powdery might...
Father Christmas is just a child's, happiest sight.

Upon the roof's snowy altered edge...
A blue bird sings out near a cottage's hedge.

A tree topped limb balances out the needles of joy...
B'neath it's base, are stacked lots of packaged, a toy.

Carollers run and gather fro' door to door...
A fattish Santa at every street corner's store.

A snowman abandoned in yards at hand...
What can be heard, but a Salvation Army's bell ringing band.

Crowds bustled elbow to all...
These words can be heard 'Merry Christmas to all' is the much heard shouted call.

Snow sleds unleashed up and down many hills...
This Wintry Christmas-Brings to many kids, their happiest of thrills.

Tic-tock, tic-tock, goe'th the Grand Father clock...
Many splendored feelings of Christmas tree's packages, to all brings, astonishing moments of happier shocks.