‘Twas The Night Before Christmas
A Sunset Crater Christmas
By Pat Wenckus
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Roy Rogers,
Not a creature was stirring, they were all just old codgers.
The support hose were hung on the patio with care,
In hopes that they’d dry in the warm Arizona air.
The children were all gone – we’ve givin’ them our best,
While we are quite happy in our now empty nest.
And mama in her jammies and I in my CPAP,
Had just settled down for yet another long nap.
When out of the rocks there arose such a clatter,
I eased from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I went as was able,
Knocked over the meds on the bedside table.
The moon as it shown on the big Palo Verde,
Gave a beautiful glow…Gee, that’s gotten pretty.
When what to my myopic eyes should I see,
But a fully loaded golf cart and eight coyote.
With a little old driver, so grey and so odd,
I knew in a moment, he came from our pod.
More rapid than road runners, his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Pedro, now Armando, now Lorenzo and Wily,
On Jesus! On Roberto! On Miguel and Jaime!
To the top of the courtyard! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!
He was dressed all in cotton from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were all sweaty – it’s hot here you know.
A bundle of booze he flung onto the floor,
He looked like he’d come from the Total Wine store.
His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses – he’d been in the sherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a grin,
Giving pause that he’d also been in the gin.
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a wrinkled face and mostly bald head,
A little round belly from the good life he’d led.
He was old, but cute, a right jolly curmudgeon,
I laughed as I realized he was THE Santa of legend.
A wink at ma and calling her “honey”,
Soon gave me to know this could be funny.
He spoke not a word, but jumped right in the pool.
The stockings were all filled and he had to get cool.
And drying himself with a towel he found,
He whistled for the coyotes to bring the cart ‘round.
He sprang to his cart – he had a tee time at 8,
And away they all went over the Trilogy front gate.
But I heard him exclaim ‘ere he flew over Sunset Crater,
Merry Christmas Easy Diners – I’ll catch you all later.
A Sunset Crater Christmas
By Pat Wenckus
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through Roy Rogers,
Not a creature was stirring, they were all just old codgers.
The support hose were hung on the patio with care,
In hopes that they’d dry in the warm Arizona air.
The children were all gone – we’ve givin’ them our best,
While we are quite happy in our now empty nest.
And mama in her jammies and I in my CPAP,
Had just settled down for yet another long nap.
When out of the rocks there arose such a clatter,
I eased from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I went as was able,
Knocked over the meds on the bedside table.
The moon as it shown on the big Palo Verde,
Gave a beautiful glow…Gee, that’s gotten pretty.
When what to my myopic eyes should I see,
But a fully loaded golf cart and eight coyote.
With a little old driver, so grey and so odd,
I knew in a moment, he came from our pod.
More rapid than road runners, his coursers they came,
And he whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Pedro, now Armando, now Lorenzo and Wily,
On Jesus! On Roberto! On Miguel and Jaime!
To the top of the courtyard! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away, dash away, dash away all!
He was dressed all in cotton from his head to his toe,
And his clothes were all sweaty – it’s hot here you know.
A bundle of booze he flung onto the floor,
He looked like he’d come from the Total Wine store.
His eyes – how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses – he’d been in the sherry.
His droll little mouth was drawn up in a grin,
Giving pause that he’d also been in the gin.
The stump of a cigar he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a wrinkled face and mostly bald head,
A little round belly from the good life he’d led.
He was old, but cute, a right jolly curmudgeon,
I laughed as I realized he was THE Santa of legend.
A wink at ma and calling her “honey”,
Soon gave me to know this could be funny.
He spoke not a word, but jumped right in the pool.
The stockings were all filled and he had to get cool.
And drying himself with a towel he found,
He whistled for the coyotes to bring the cart ‘round.
He sprang to his cart – he had a tee time at 8,
And away they all went over the Trilogy front gate.
But I heard him exclaim ‘ere he flew over Sunset Crater,
Merry Christmas Easy Diners – I’ll catch you all later.