At Christmas Times


The Union never looked so barren
As it did around Christmas time.

The civil war meant improvising
Coffee from parched wheat, parched okra seed
or parched raw sweet potato chips
Was such a thing ever heard of?
Such only occurred around Christmas time

And the beauty, where did the beauty go?
Was the beauty within the creation, using the
loom and spinning wheel
Oh no, beautiful clothes were a rarity during the war
Especially around Christmas time

I often thank the stars overhead
For the trunk given to the women of my family.

Silks, satins, brocades and linens
Lasting and allowing
to fabricate that which we admired most
Without the trunk as our savior
Our days would have not have been the same,
The days around Christmas time

Yet those without our fortune never seemed to give up
When the soldiers returned, filthy and wounded,
it was the women who catered to their needs.
Making something out of nothing allowed for those
merry days, around Christmas time.