Christmas Breeze, by John Figueroa

 Merry Christmas, and after this difficult year, I wish you all the very best for 2021!

Thanks for reading the blog this year, and for your thoughtful comments. Enjoy this Christmas poem, Christmas Breeze, by John Figueroa. 

Christmas Breeze

Auntie would say 'Ah! Christmas breeze',

as the Norther leapt from the continent

across Caribbean seas,

across our hills

to herald Christmas,

ham boiling in the yard

plum pudding in the cloth

(Let three stones bear the pot;

and feed the hat-fanned fire).

This breeze in August cools a Summer's day 

here in England.

In December in Jamaica

we would have called it cold,

Cold Christmas Breeze,

fringing the hill tops with its tumble

of cloud, bringing in

imported apples, and dances

and rum (for older folk).

For us, some needed clothes, and a pair

of shoes squeezing every toe.

And Midnight Mass:

Adeste Fideles!

Some Faithful came -

and why not? - a little drunk,

some overdressed, but

ever faithful.

Like Christmas breeze

returning every year, bearing

not August's end, nor October's

wind and rain but Christmas

and 'starlights'

and a certain sadness, except for Midnight Mass

and the Faithful

('The Night when Christ was born')

I miss celebrations, but I miss most

the people of faith

who greeted warmly every year

the Christmas breeze.