(seasonal Poems) Annunciation - Poem by Janice Windle
highly paid, featherbedded
by the global company
that has made them willing
slaves in thrall,
they will long for home at Christmas
if they long for home at all.
Held in their protective shell,
they stroll colonial avenues
or climb up flowery foothills
to gasp at Himalayan views.
At home, familiar rituals
are unfolding – the heavy meal;
the Queen’s Speech;
the celery and cheese
and turkey sandwiches at ten -
but their Christmas is different -
a tour of Kathmandu,
a pleasant lunch á deux
she breaks her news, that Into them
a child is to be born – and Christmas
never will be quite the same again.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You