Here’s a great holiday-themed 3-stanza limerick I got from my Uncle Roy and Aunt Shirley, who live in Naples, Florida. They got hit so hard by Hurricane Wilma that at Thanksgiving, they were still working full-time to find their backyard. Sadly, the boat mentioned in the poem, a small aluminum skiff, didn’t survive.
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Our turkey’s baked, our goose is cooked
The terminal is crowded, passage booked
Our Christmas is crisis or so it would seem
We’ve done all our shopping, run out of steam
We’re ready for nothing nothing overlooked

We didn’t put up a tree this year
Wilma took them all down, we fear.
Our toys were under the tree
Boat, pump, fence, at least three
An axe, a saw, took a month to clear

The mess from the yard and out to the street
For pickup, piled wide and up eight feet
Done with that, now sweeping and raking,
Cleaning, cooking, shopping and baking
We’ll send cards next year, this year we’re beat

Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Hoppy Gnu Year

A very frightening landing inspired this rhyme a couple of weeks ago:

With Orlando’s airport in sight
The passengers all had a fright
The plane lurched and yawed
A man screamed, “Oh Gawd!
“Just please let me survive this flight!”

A few days later, I received this via e-mail from my sister Julie, who wrote of her experience flying home after Thanksgiving:

Atlanta can be such a bore.
When you sit there 5 hours – no, more!
Could have flown to Bombay,
In the time of travel Monday.
From Sun City to Eugene, in hours: Twenty-four.

Is it any wonder we hate to fly???