Hello, hello! Your girl is falling behind with her Christmas preparations, although most of them will be cash. That's how it goes when you are the oldest in the family. Not that Fio is doesn't have other things to deal with too.
By the way, where did Fio's roll of Kleenex go? And those stacks of toilet paper that were in the washing closet? Surely, Santa isn't going to deliver gifts that are second hand.
Ring-a-ding! Fiorella has contributed her own displays to the front of the foyer: four of her own Christmas cards, complete with your girl's poems.
And here is one of them:
Christmas Fire
The firewood salvaged from our fallen trees
We've dried and heaped upon the fireplace grate
To counteract the deep midwinter freeze
Which lowering temperatures now prognosticate.
Steel strikes flink, the tinder pile is lit,
A quick flame flashes, then is gently fed
Until the fire is burning bright and brisk,
Its finger reaching high, its embers red.
Crackling and raging and roaring with each bite,
The hungry fire consumes the waiting wood,
But after we have gone to bed at night
The flames burn out--untended, unrenewed.
Yet warmth awakens us upon the morn--
A Merry Christmas to all! Christ is born!
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