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Twas the Week of Christmas

21 December 2023

Twas the Week of Christmas

By Debra Milligan


Twas the week of Christmas

and all through the house

every creature was stirring,

including

Noelle Mouse.

 

She was busy with cheeses,

and having teas,

wrapping up presents

to such a degree

 

that all the loud commotion

amongst Humankind

threatened her aura

and her sensible mind.

 

“They must be bonkers,”

she said to herself.

 

“Not a single moment given

to anyone else.”


It clearly disturbed her,

this wise little waif,

all the moaning and groaning

for poor Christmas’s sake.

 

There’s not enough money,

there’s not enough peace,

there’s not enough hope,

 

and,

 

When do we eat?!

 

“They ought to see me,”

said Noelle Mouse

right out loud

to The House.

 

“For an entire crowd

I’m inventing merriment

from cookie crumbs,

and cheese nips

and cracker dust.


And all they can do

is complain

about Christmas.”

 

It clearly perturbed her,

to hear the disturbance

and to see

how petty

some humans can be.

 

Her best friend,

the House Mouse,

paid her a call,

scurrying through woodwork

to reach this covert cubbyhole.


“I think you’re taking it all too

hard,

and

much like hard cheese,

You’ll never be able to please

yourself or anyone else,

with this attitude

toward the human

ingratitude.”

 

“But what am I to do?”

Noelle Mouse asked her

mouse-pal

who always had a clue

on how to

 

Get through the Human Holidays

like a true saint.


“First, we need a coffee break,”

House-Mouse sat down

on a well-worn tuffet.


“With some chocolate-chip

cookies, or a blueberry muffin.

Running around like humans

at this time of the year

is sure to exhaust you

and fill you with fear

 

till you lose any and all cheer

for Yuletide

and who should know better

how to abide

than a mouse named Noelle?

 

You surprise me,

with all that you’ve learned,

expecting the humans

to turn over a new stone.”


“Turn over a new leaf,” intoned

Noelle Mouse.

 

Then she sat down

on her own little tuffet,

and sighed like a worn-out puppet:

 

“The reason for the season

has escaped me.”

 

House-Mouse took the slender hand

of her very best friend,

and, tenderly, she smiled,

to put an end

to the lament

from this lovely rodent.

 

“I can see,” House-Mouse whispered

as her voice slowly drifted

toward the sound of giving:


“You’ve escaped the reason

for the season,

but He won’t be denied.

 

You still have time

to forgive the lesser creatures

and all their mortal features.

 

All creatures great and small

can come to call

at Bethlehem’s stall

 

to rejoice, every one,

that the Spirit of Christmas

has only just begun.”

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