Thursday December 16, 2010



Poetic Inspiration With

Seasonal Edge

A Christmas wish from staff at the

Chilliwack Hospice

Submitted by Coletta Holmes, CHS


was the week before Christmas,

when all through the society

All were preparing even Ben and Missy

The volunteers at the Thrift Store were sorting with care

In hopes that sustainable funding was there


The staff were nestled all snug at their desks

While visions of new programs danced in their heads

And the board members ready, all finished their reading

Had just sat down for a lengthy board meeting


When over at the residence there arose such a clatter

I sprang from my desk to see what was the matter

Away to the window I flew like a flash

Tore open the blinds and threw up the sash


The moon on the sidewalk with new-fallen snow

Gave the luster of promise to the hard street below

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear

Our wonderful administrative, event, client and patient volunteers


They entered the building, so lively and quick

I thought for a moment it must be a trick

They opened their hearts and their compassionate acts came

And they smiled and supported, never forgetting a name


Our dedicated Hospice volunteers ran

To care for each family, woman and man!

To the top of reception, to the bottom of the hall

Now help and companion, support away all!


And trained volunteers all prepared to assist

The families who gather there in their midst

To the kitchen they scurried not one, not two

But the whole group waiting, for the coffee to brew


And then, in a twinkling, I heard through the door

It’s the same every year, they always want more!

As I drew in my head and was turning around

Down the hall he came with a leap and a bound


He was dressed quite official, from his head to his foot

And into his briefcase our pamphlets he put

A bundle of applications he had flung on his back

And he looked like a Postie just opening his pack


His eyes, how they focused! He looked and then said

‘Hi nice to meet you, just call me Ed’

He wore a red shirt, fashioned just so

And the scarf on his neck was as white as the snow


The stub of a pencil he held tight in his hand

(As the weight of his task truly was grand)

But a wink of his eye and a twist of his head

Soon gave me to know we would all get ahead


He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work

And found us core funding, then turned with a jerk

And laying a finger aside of his nose

Giving a nod, from the meeting he rose


He sprang to his car, which was parked by the door

And took off down the road with a loud roar

But I heard him exclaim (as off he flew)



(With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore 1779 – 1863)