'Twas the month before Christmas and all through the night
We drove west and then south for Turkey Day bright.
We rode the coast, many calories to burn,
Watching fierce waves crash and churn.
"A Christmas card shot!" I squealed with glee,
Directing my favorite cyclist to ride straight to me.
"We can show them white water instead of white snow."
The cyclist grinned with mischief: "I don't think so!"
Will our parents forgive his humorous burst?
Will all our friends think we are cursed?
Or will they smile when they see
A Christmas card not designed by me?