Jabber, your poems are getting better and better. I guess practice does it for us all. Got to say the last sentence ., made me really laugh
Boy rhyming can be hard at times, especially when you are a sick little chicken like you are right now. Hope you feel better.

And Eagle you have a sense of humour. I see it time and time again in your posts, and now your poem.

New words: bells, whistles, horns, string

You know those angels flying around in the sky?
Singing and whistling on top of their clouds?
They're all spaced out; - it's the "Christmas high",
From playing their instruments, way too loud.

Oh yes, we humans get to hear the final results,
But a lot of practicing took place first.
Even God has been seen, - checking his pulse,
While listening to the brass horns, - at their worst.

Harps needed to be tuned, and violin strings would snap,
While bells chimed, "Oh Christmas Tree", off key.
But lo and behold, even old Saint Nickolas would clap,
When angels played "Holy Night" in sweet harmony.


Travel, world, dream, century