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The Festive Punch
© 2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

It is my solemn duty,
Perhaps you have a hunch –
To guard the buffet table
Lest Grandpa spikes the punch.

Now, I have my eyes upon him
Though he thinks he’ll call my bluff,
But when he saunters near me
I’ll confiscate the stuff.

Last year it was a shambles;
Our Christmas wasn’t fun,
The punch was 50/50
Apple cider – moonshine rum.

Uncle Ed began addressing
The stuffed muskie in the hall
And Aunt Hilda started swatting
Invisible spiders on the wall.

Cousin Sam was jitterbugging
With the hat-tree in a twirl,
And Papa kept insisting
Father Patrick was a girl.

My mom was apoplectic
And my sister was in tears.
When our pup set up such howling
I had to plug my ears.

So this Christmas’ll be different,
Of that you can be sure,
‘Cause Mom’s paying me a fiver
To keep the punch secure.

The Designer

falling_snow_trees

The Designer
© 2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

The fall fashion show is done;
The trees have all disrobed,
Shed their scarlet raiment,
Their glitt’ring jewels of gold.
Divested of their glamour,
They stand in barest array,
Awaiting the Designer
To finish his display.
Although their fall finery
Was so colourful it glowed,
It can’t be compared to
Their beauty when it’s snowed.

The First Snow

snow on front step tree

The First Snow
© 2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

The pines are tasseled in white,
The cedars are laced with down,
The birds have quilted the lawn
With dainty stitches around.
Sometime while we were asleep
The clouds shook out their pillows
Covering Autumn’s drab remains
In sparkling, frosted billows.

Naked November

naked maple

Naked November
©2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

Naked November maples
Stand with bare limbs raised,
Imploring heaven
To dress them.

My Last Pansy

Last pansy

My Last Pansy
© 2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

Jack Frost stopped by last night
Wielding his wintry wand,
Touching all the flowers
Of which I had grown fond.
The bright dahlias fainted,
The dainty asters swooned,
Sunflowers bent their heads
While the east wind crooned.
Yet one purple pansy
Remained steadfast, alert,
Tucked in the rock garden
In its warm bed of dirt.
Did Jack Frost miss it?
Was he just being kind –
Leaving a memento
Of sweet summer behind?

First Frost

crispy leaves.jpg

First Frost
©2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

Crisp brown leaves now litter the lawn
Rimed by frost in the early dawn.
The dahlias bend, their flowers curl,
Sagging low, as around them swirl
The icy whispers of winter.

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A Candle Burning

candlelight #3

A Candle Burning
© 2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

A candle burning in the dark night
Cannot outshine my Saviour’s light.
The greatest bonfire and its glow
Compared to Jesus, will not show.
The brightest beams from our big sun
Cannot eclipse the Blessed One.
The love light from my Saviour’s eyes
Is kind, and caring, always wise.
He sees my weakness, knows my fears,
Has helped me stand and dried my tears.
And when my task here is complete,
You’ll find me sitting at his feet.

Glad July

glad bouquet #2

glsdiolas from our garden 2017

Jaunty plumes of glad July
Beckon to bees passing by-
“Hello! Hello! Come and see

What garden pleasures there may be.”
Crickets chirp an invitation –
“There is nectar here for your libation.
Colours there are to entice your eye,
Brilliant hues and perfumes to try.
Come once, come twice. Pause for a sip.
It’s worth your time to make the trip.”
Pansies curtsy as breezes play
And rare is the bee that stays away.

Morning in the Garden

Brown-eyed Susans

Brown-eyed Susans on the hill
Are nodding in the sun.
Waving daisies at the gate
Are stretching one by one.
Blue cornflowers by my door
Raise up their sleepy heads.
God is walking in his garden
Awaking all the beds.

Flower gold

Poppies

Brazen silk banners

Unfurling orange splendour

Herald bright summer.

poppy portrait

The Festive Punch © 2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon

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The Festive Punch
© 2017 Mollie Pearce McKibbon