T’was the night before Christmas, when all through the land
people were dying, other people were lending a hand. A heart.
The stockings were all hung from (some of) the chimney(s) with care
While 500,000 U.S. homeless slept under bridges, many sockless and scared.

The children were nestled (at least some anyway) all snug in their beds,
While visions of going to school, playing with friends, and laughing
danced in their heads.
And mama in her three-layered ‘kerchief, and I in my face shield and mask,
Had just settled down (well not really settled) for a long winter’s Covid-slap.

When throughout the earth there arose such a clatter as
research-scientists and doctors sprang up to see what was the matter.
Away to hospitals, ER’s, and bedsides brave caregivers they flew,
Tore open their hearts, their lives, seeing humans, patients, not red or blue.

The December moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
gave a tiny lustre of hope to those suffering below.
When, what to our wondering eyes should appear,
but a sleigh full of vaccines and helpers, like St. Nick’s reindeer.

With a little old driver — not his large old boss — much less grouchy,
I knew in a moment it must be Doctor Fauci.
More rapid than eagles — less coarse than The Donald — he came,
and he whistled, encouraged, and thanked them by name:

Now scientists, Now researchers, Now nurses, and docs,
On ambulance drivers, on firefighters, on EMT’s, you rock.
Now lab techs, now phlebotomists, now housekeepers, and cooks,
Off haters, violent baiters, off Trump minions, and unjustly released crooks.
On therapists, and ministers, and kind friends who lent an ear,
to listen generously to stories of worry, trauma, suffering, and fear.

Now hospital administrators, school teachers, and nursing home aides,
On all essential workers who are unseen, unacknowledged, and poorly paid.
On especially those who have died who have families, friends,
value, and names.
Off narcissistic leaders, poor losers, spineless politicians who lie, cheat,
and blame (to stay in the game).
Off virus hoax believers, off billionaires who get richer by the virus each day,
On hard working Americans, good neighbors, on volunteers
who work for no pay.

On reverence not ridicule, on honor not shame,
On hope not despair, on the common good, not my ego, not personal fame.
To the top of my respect list, like beauty birds perched high on a wall,
I salute all hidden helpers and healers, but if you’re not part of the solution,
I say dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
when met with an obstacle, these humble heroes replied,
Up to their house-tops, into mud rooms, and garages they flew,
with sweaty clothes full of germs, they stripped, showered; were made new.
And mustering an eye twinkle and the proverbial brave face,
they returned to their children, spouses, and friends with fierce grace,
As did all unheralded essential workers when they fell into bed,
exhausted, holding anxiety, hiding sadness, and tears that they shed.

And then, in a twinkle, was heard round the nation
not prancing or pawing on roofs but commotion, agitation.
For the Commander-in-chief had commanded to drain the swamp (in prisons!),
pronouncing convicted loyalists and cow-towing cronies forgiven.

He was dressed all in blue (how ironic), from head to his foot,
with his reputation all tarnished from years of ashes and soot.
A bundle of boys he had flung in a sack over his back,
and he looked like a con man just opening his pack.
Inside were 4 crooked politicians plus Manafort, Kushner, Stone, and Flynn,
and four Blackwater rogues who killed 14 innocent civilians.

His eyes–how they twinkled! His bouffant, how merry!
His tweets were like always, unhinged rants, revenge, and scary!
His never droll mouth was drawn up like a bow,
and the hue of his soul was as white as the snow
(because black doesn’t rhyme with bow).
The stump of his tongue he held tight in his teeth,
and the self-made halo encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly (I can’t change every line),
that shook when he lied and mocked people, like a bowl full of jelly.

He was chubby and Trump, a vindictive not jolly old elf,
and he lied and he lied and he lied, he couldn’t help himself.
And with a lit match to the DSM-5, and with a twinkle, then twist of his head
he turned from his duties, without a care for the surging number of dead,
insuring all Americans have 26 more days of worry and dread.
He spoke not a word of congratulations, no apology, no remorse,
but went straight to his work,
as the framers of the Constitution rolled over in graves with a juke and jerk.
And laying his middle finger inside of his nose,
he gave a nod, signaling that we all bow to him (I suppose).

But as he acted the fool, silver-spooned child, gaslighter, imposter
other lovers of democracy stepped up, big-hearted sisters and brothers.
They sprang when they were needed, when someone whistled they flew,
they didn’t ask who’d you vote for, are you a Christian, an atheist,
a Buddhist, a Jew?
Are you straight, a vegan, were you born here, can’t you speak english,
you sure that you’re white?
They just treated every sick person like family, with dignity,
while holding the light.

Maybe we can do that for each other some, beginning or continuing tonight,
and help make peace on earth a reality and not a cliche or something trite.
May it be so, Goodpeople. May it be so. And to all a goodnight.