On Christmas Morn’ I donned my coat,
Stepped cheerily o’er my flip flops,
And stepped outside to breath in cold
But encountered steamy raindrops.
What dark magic is upon us?
Where snow should ere’ be found?
Yet all around me blossoms
And green grass on the ground?
Had winter thus forsaken me
And quietly passed by?
What of tasting Winter’s bounty
While lifting tongue to sky?
What of angels on Earth, I cry!
What of woodsmoke fire, I ask!
When behold my husband calls to me
“We’re in Texas, dumb-ass.”