Twas the night before Thanksgiving When all through the flat Not a creature was stirring, Not even a mouse. The Jell-o mold for tomorrow Was chilling in the fridge In hopes that Thanksgiving Would soon let us eat it. The children were nestled All snug in their beds; With visions of turkey legs Dancing in their heads; And my honey in his chair And I in mine Had just settled down for A long Capital's game, When out in the sky there Arose such a clatter, I sprang from my chair To see what was the matter. Out to the balcony I flew like a flash, Spouse wondering "what the heck . . ." The moon in the southern sky lit up the deck and Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects above When what to my wondering eyes should appear But a squawking big V of Bright white swans Heading for Chesapeake Bay.
I so wish I'd thought to pick up my camera. Those swans shown bright white against the dark sky and sounded like a gaggle of old ladies in heat.