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 |    We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
| Noel, noel, noel, noel. Why can't you get it right, I ask? A bonging gong, a tinkling bell, this writing's such a daily task. "What's wrong with it?" you sit bemused. "The world doth write, 'Noel. Noel'." "That's why it's wrong, my friend, Confused. Now, sit in peace. This Truth I tell." "Tis 'N-o-e.' I chide thee much. Doth no one see the truth of this?" "Insane. Thy head is gravely touched." "'Tis 'N-o-e', no 'L.' What bliss!" How sweet it is to eat the dust of "just deserts", my bookish friend. Now, trudging through desserts's a must for chocolate all the hurts can mend. The hareless hair doth bug us much between his sets of comic relief. The switching vowels make nonsense, and such. These unwieldy tropes need be quite brief. It came to us one midnight clear, that Nicholas in seasoned rhymes could bring great joy, remove the fear, and help the world's most challenged climes. How doth he do this wondrous feet? By hoe, hoe, hoeing through Earth's fields to plant great goodness on repeat, to reap in harvest bless-ed yields. by Jay O’Toole on September 12th, 2022   |
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