Banging, blaring blurs

    of bulbs and bells

Reindeer running rampant

     over grandma

Shouting stanzas of

     sleazy selling.

And now melodious harps

    turning twangy tunes!

 

I long for the muted misty

    Eve on the hillside

With a star signaling

    "How still we see thee lie."

Quiet contemplation and celebration

     of God's gift of grace,

Love, his only adornment.