There’s no call to ask reindeer to wait.

There’s lots they love, but that one thing they hate.

Old St. Nickolas forgot, which was a crime,

because a lot of presents didn't arrive on time.

The reindeer were antsy and raring to go,

tired of shuffling back & forth and to & fro.

Some genius may have been on to their tricks.

That great mind, however, was not St. Nick’s.

Instead, his voyage was rather topsy-turvy.

Dancer & Prancer were feeling kind of nervy.

The reindeer tossed & turned, tripped & twirled,

almost as if they were wandering out of this world.

As the sleigh neared the Village of Garden City,

the old man dug in his boots and the ride got gritty.

He lost grip on the reins and control of the sleigh.

What is that shiny old maxim, “Let them eat hay!”?

He should have remembered to sweeten their load

with some alfalfa or carrots, or apple pie ala mode.

Instead, he forgot. They were having none of this.

Vixen shook the sleigh and St. Nick dropped his list.

No more treats for the good but coal for the bad.

For every child, there were presents to be had.

At least, that was what St. Nick was feeling,

while being shaken up & down, his senses areeling.

So he set down his sleigh by the Village gazebo.

The eve was ending fast, but he wanted to take it slow.

Having been shaken up, his senses were adrift,

so he decided upon one house to leave all the gifts.

The most beautiful house with accompanying lawn

was the spot to which his reindeer were drawn.

The sleigh slid to a stop, out spilled each box,

so gaily wrapped, but all with invisible locks.

These could only be opened by the person named.

The cards were specific; no two were the same.

Then St. Nick split; Rudolf’s nose was glowing.

The reindeer mightn’t wait, so he had to be going.

Upon Christmas morn, some unknowing child

would holler & whoop & frankly go wild,

until he or she lost patience, unable to cope

with the wrappings and such, and then lose hope.

Sitting dejectedly under a brightly lit tree,

an idea came to him or her, as it would to you or me.

Why not call all the families living in the Village,

and then all the children could plunder & pillage.

There would be one great party outside this house,

and nobody, but nobody, would be quiet as a mouse.

The calls were made by shouting & yelling.

How everybody heard the news, there was no telling.

Children walked, skipped, jumped, & hopped

to the heavenly house where the gifts had stopped.

Everybody laughed and roared with good cheer.

Have you looked yet to espy your own box here?

Has St. Nick left the presents at your place?

Turn right around, but not with such haste

that the boxes swirl up into the frosty air,

leaving only ribbons & glitter remaining there.

This may be only a Yuletide tale, or it may be true.

Just await Christmas morn. See if it happens to you.

Carol Anderson

Christmas 2009