A Lifetime of Christmas Poetry
My mom, Raynette Forister Eitel, passed away in September of 2022, age
85, drifting away into dementia. It was tragic to watch this woman who loved
words, who was a poet and teacher, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime
of crafting poetry.
Mom had a tradition of writing a new Christmas poem each year and
sending it to friends and relatives. The mailing list grew each year, and
people always told us they looked forward to mom’s Christmas poems. She
published some in a couple little books. There are too many to post just once a
day during the month of December, but I’ll choose some of the best.
Season Defined
by Raynette Eitel
It isn’t the tinseled branches,
It isn’t the holly wreath,
It isn’t the tallest, brightest tree
Or the packages underneath.
It isn’t the sugar cookies,
It isn’t the caroling,
It isn’t the stocking stuffed with toys
Or sleigh bells’ merry ring.
It isn’t the frothy eggnog,
Or cards from near and far—
But oh, the truth of angel wings
Beneath a blinding star!
Writing Rhetorically 