Poems for Advent 13
Christmas Street Party
Who owns this place tonight?
that which will change hands many times
before midnight - while
synthesized carols are falling
through the last purchase
of summer twilight.
Between the ‘Road Closed’ police ribbons
the town will promenade its wares
a late vintage on everybody’s lips
and trestle tables piled
with the paraphernalia of plaster and paste
and festive litter.
A few unfettered balloons romp untidily
the local councilor announcing winners
in the Xmas raffle performs a mixed duet
with his own feedback
amongst cheap bubbly and hair-care prizes.
Children fractious in the heat
and impatient for Santa Claus
are not improved by melt-thin ice cream
local businessmen stand in a guild circle
with chicken vindaloo in foil trays
balanced with beakers of pinot noir
An old woman tending an unpatroned
lucky dip is knitting
fat Father Christmas faces
while the queue for hot dogs snakes almost
to the limits of the village green-
flies are a halo over everything.
The evening star rises above the vineyards
yellow and hot
and the slow hump of three camels
following each other’s tail
bearing rides for children
round and round in circles - going nowhere.