Cynthia DiSciullo and William Zigmont
[writingteamcw@yahoo.com]
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Do you hear the singing wash of northern wind whispering that it is near The adorable of a dimple in a cheek, that very special wink, a lick of a sweet That time of year, when charm and misty magic appears, that time that is so dear People are more cordial, more bountiful, more caring; you note it on every street Even in the creature realm of every kind of this, that, ilk and Canadian geese One that flaps above the snowy glow from the northern tips of whitey-white trees Where Giddygoo Goose adorns feisty fest as she flies south to see her niece The wily whoosh of holiday sprint flowing over feathery down like a light breeze As Christmas twinkle flaunts itself, proud and bright, like newly polished brass A blinding zealous light with dazzling spark that mesmerizes an enraptured moth It causes foul to measure shortest breaths, to look through life's translucent glass Only to find it is not rain drench clear, just laden with obscure but merry froth Her annual trip has begun the same as it has since her first fledgling sunny-sun flight Such cheer and joy could be felt as the urging came to flutter away to the south But there was a time that differed from all the others, happening on a jolly night Before she'd leave, she'd tell this tale, it special and forever streaming from her mouth Giddygoo bespoke of when she saw flitty-flutters that gave the illusion of snow Unique pretty shapes that promise a kiss of bittersweet cold, a tingle-wet touch Even when nothing existed, no sprinkling sky, no white on white, no puffy-show Her mind provided it all, a fantasy peek and excitement rise, ne'er too much Giddygoo gazed down at the trees alight, streets garland lace, and at the dashing crowd The flights she found so immensely gay and fun when she flown this yearly season She could see the world's rhythm and rhyme, flow and wan through a wispy cloud But there was an icky she felt, an irritant, one she could not reach, was the reason She wanted a special nudge, a special gleaning, a special tick-tock of moments gone by It is that juncture that makes all and goose alike aware of tender remembrances that exists That of family, and that of faith, and that of a friend that understands your cry It is the loving latter that cradles your soul on this and every journey toward bliss But Giddygoo could not find that inner place of ultra sprinkled Christmas glee The distressed goose flipped and flapped, twittered and squawked, tumbled and dived There was only a tweaking of tickling that was not pleasing at all, oh what could it be On and on torment without a friend to help, such precise destiny could not be contrived Friends saw her through the corridors of bleakness and over the pathways of uncertain And through the taffy laughter, the giddy celebrations, the milestones and gasps of joy A friend, such a simple, simple word, yet the ultimate gift hiding behind the curtain Never stepping or skipping forth to take accolades but not because of jostling coy A climb too high, a near miss of flying wrens, a climb too low, nearly hit a bough She had her best and bestest friends, a moth, a dove, a panda, a cow, and one itsy bitsy flea They were close and closer still in heart but despite being around, not one was here now Giddygoo flew and flew, a spinning goose so plump and full, all who looked could see Then the goose realized exactly the torment, an itch, so foul and created by a tick Stretched her feathers from wing to spine, shook her bulk, trying to chase the tick away "B'gone, B'gone," Giddygoo proclaimed, her words coming out so prickly-slur thick The tick did not leave, and she flipped and flopped as a gunshot missed its itchy prey It was then she realized hunters had meant her to be Christmas Day dinner "Oh my, oh me, I was nearly slain. Thank you dear tick, you have saved me." "It was my honor, Giddygoo Goose, " said Tisher Tick, "Today you are a winner." So it was that friendship was born on the day Tisher kept her safe and free to flee "What do you wish for wrapped in a box, bright crinkly paper and large overblown bow Perhaps something that rings and jingles, or something to squeeze and cuddle," Giddygoo asked Tisher Tick on that night. "A gift of gratitude I must indeed show." The tick shook its head, and then the goose said, "I know," leaving the tick a-muddle "Climb upon my back," Giddygoo said, "Every Christmas I will give you a ride. Far from any blizzard to spend winter with your southern friends, be it dog or cat. I know they still play outside." Tisher Tick thought this awful grand to glide On the back of his new friend, singing carols on high and also now and then a chat Tisher became a friend that took secrets and protected them with a quiet that binds Giddygoo knew her friend always cared; it rode upon the importance of each new day It ignored the blemish marred charm and simply sought the connection of minds Fears were analyzed and soothed to dust, as were sorrow, and tears were flecked away Not with a claw, feather, or segment but a logic that stirred a smile and quelled the dark Astutely it perceived flaws, the tracery of their deception forgiven with memory burn "Turn this word-litter personal," Giddygoo declared, "on each venture I will not embark Without the strength of my friend, not without that which I hope to give in turn. "To trek with my comrade though the good to bad, through cloud highs and toppling deep To wade through the segues awash with wishes and dreams, all that which makes us yearn Travel to the backdoor of life when gray conquers every feather and flat streets seem steep Hard to fly, difficult to speed, but the journey's finish never done just more to earn "Forevermore a chuckle shared, emotions explored, memories revisited on that yearly day Just before the eve of song's night, before the morning hour of presents explored I will find my way to your door, be it here or there, anywhere you might stray And celebrate this friendship rare and different and tightened by carings' cord. "To sing together the yuletide flurry of kindred souls and comrades of imagination Finally to wish you Merry Christmas, my dear, wonderful, exceptional and kind friend To speak of how honored I am to have traveled with you toward a special destination We know not when, but every year of song and mirth, will find us together to the end." |
poem © 2008 Cynthia DiSciullo and William Zigmont, all rights reserved
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