Twas the day before Christmas and all through the bus,
All were doing their own thing, all 12 of us. Ukoiya and Lindsay were stretching on the floor. Three days on a busacan make you quite sore. Kelsey and Jules drew doodles here and there. Now our plywood table/bed doesn't look so bare. There is engine talk from Islando and Vern. To get the bus running again is their main concern. Joselynn and Paul are looking into flights, Concerned we might not make it by Christmas night. Hallie's in bed with a book. Amiel is online. We can't get the bus working, but the internet works fine. River is zonked from a late night at the wheel. And I, our "head chef", reluctantly ponder our next meal. What's that? It's a rumber from down below. The engine guys are trying another go. We all cross our fingers, and hold our breath, But the egine quietly sputters to death. Wait just a sec. It seems to be getting stronger. The time between sputters grows ever longer. It was air in the lines that had to be bled. It's always something, we just shake our heads. Now we're back on the road, we'll hit the border by dawn. Here's hoping for smooth sailing from this point on. So as we roll out of Palm Springs on Interstate 10. I wish Feliz Navidad to you and your kin. |
Monday December 24 2007 | File under: holidays, poetry |
Toggle Comments (2) | comment? |
on Mon 24th Dec, 2007 07:29 pm PST MOM said: The stockings were hung By the radiator with care.Wren had worn them six weeksThey needed the air.Feliz Navidad, mi hijo. ************************ on Fri 28th Dec, 2007 11:52 am PST mandy said: sounds exactly as i would have imagined from the traveling circus! har har har ************************ |
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