November is here, Thanksgiving’s fine.
Gather canned goods, donate time.
The holiday spirit at its start
The time of year our love to impart.
This time of year our hearts aglow,
Regardless of December’s snow.
Visit old ones who lived before us
With voices loud in carol chorus.
The Little Sisters decorate
Their nursing home, our favorite.
With Christmas wreaths of pine and holly.
Their residents all look so jolly.
The elderly are frail and weak.
They love to touch a child’s cheek.
To rock a baby in their chair,
They hold him with such tender care.
Now January, wreaths come down.
Those jolly faces turn to frowns.
From those who are less fortunate
We turn away and soon forget.
But not the Little Sisters sure.
Those Little Sisters of the Poor.
At their home they take no rest
Like Christ they always give their best.
We, too, could learn from their example.
Christmas love’s not meant to sample.
Go see them now the whole year through
For one day you will grow old, too.
And then you’ll know that lonely days
Don’t just occur at holidays.
An empty rocker brings no joy
Like cuddling with a baby boy.
If Jesus truly is this time
Incarnate flesh, the One divine.
His boundless love it is the reason
We should love what ere the season.