I love Thanksgiving and Christmas time for various reasons, but one of the best outcomes of this time of year is the annual revamping of drink and dessert menus. The last couple of years I have been thoroughly enjoying such tasty holiday treats as: pumpkin pie blizzards, pumpkin shakes, eggnog lattes, peppermint ice cream, and the list could go on. Since the season only comes around once a year, I have been reminding myself to take it all in, enjoy the moment, and by all means, don't take any of it for granted.
And because of this, I've decided to pen a poem in honor of my favorite holiday drink: the blessed eggnog latte.
Words for the Nog
I'll miss you eggnog latte.
Why do you have to tease me like you do?
Hanging around for a month or two, and then disappearing.
Only to reappear a year later.
You tricky little bugger.
Quit burning my tongue.
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10 comments:
Leslie,
only you could make an ode to eggnog sound eloquent! By the way, I love the stuff too!
Oh, Sister. It has been so long since I have benefited from receiving or even reading any of your poetry. Don't give it up. You are so good at this.
Makes me think of the Volleyball poem you wrote when I was sitting the bench in sectionals. Miss those days.
Do you think you got your poetic start in third grade when one of your homeschool assignments was to write poems about insects you were studying? Do you remember "Sherman the Caterpillar" and the "Bug in the Rug"? I also remember your penning a great little poem that was published in a magazine describing a beautiful picture of nature. I wish I could remember how it went. It perfectly captured the scene in so few words! Seems you have always seen extraordinary beauty in God's natural world and creatively expressed it in your own special way! I love it. Keep it up. Of course, it isn't all God's nature...some cover other subjects like lattes.
Can you write me a poem about Whidbey Island or Bailey?
Whidbey Island
So stark and boring
Snoring.
No, you're boring.
Reveal yourself, shadow.
Whidbey Island
So rainy and fully of hippies.
Whippie.
Holy Crap, the Pueget Sound is where you ended up? Seen any gooey-ducks yet?
I guess its no stranger than where I went...I'm in Canaan, New Hampshire now. Damn, is it cold here!
Bub Rub says,"The whistles go WoWoooooo!!!
Mr. Lane has a potty mouth! I'm not reading this blog anymore.
Great poem! Quit burning my mouth-love it!
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