Poem: “The Morning of Christmas Eve”

Christmas Eve

It is the morn
Of Christmas Eve,
Scrambled eggs I cook.

Advent, Sunday,
Fourth and last
All fasting now forsook.

The birds outside
Are singing carols
Pitched soprano-high.

Above the frost
Below the blue,
Their midnight moment nigh.

Then beasts will speak
In whispers low,
When Emmanuel did come,

How they could talk
And pray an hour…
While man was struck quite dumb.

Hilary Flanery

Hilary McRee Flanery studied Theatre Arts in college at Webster University in St. Louis Missouri, USA. She has been in numerous theatre productions over the last 20 years but her real claims to fame have been "Opening Nights" in leading roles on delivery tables throughout the US Midwest where she has performed and produced ten children.

"Raising a large family and writing means that I set up strict priorities. I start each day with a prayer that has been in my family since God was a boy - 'Come Holy Ghost...give me the faith of your Saints, the courage of your martyrs, and the money and success of your athiests.'"

Hilary and her husband, Randy, have been hapily married for 30 years and are certifiably insane. They know this to be a fact since Randy is a Clinical Psychologist.

The Flanerys reside in St. Louis, Missouri with their 10 children, termites and a large bottle of wine. She blogs at www.hilaryflanery.blogspot.com.