Thursday, December 13, 2012

Santa’s sleigh

The trees are dark and empty
Their branches slim and bare
The frost has caught the sparrow’s next
And lingers in the air

The horse trodden path is icy
And snow fills up its cracks
The soft brown doe from the frozen lake
Has hit the southern track

The golden wheat fields have gone to sleep
Beneath a clear white frozen crust
The old pump handle is trimmed with ice
And must surely turn to rust

By breath is warm and steady now
As I breathe upon this pane
I draw a picture of Santa’s sleigh
With Santa at the reigns

He’s short and round like a circus clown
With a red and wintered face
His full white bear like a snow man’s ear
Is slightly out of place

He totes a bag of red and gold
Which he carries inside his sleigh
And he struggles down like a chimney sweep
With bag getting in his way

The small reindeer with their reigns and gear
Stand ready in the snow
For when Santa’s sleigh makes its getaway
Before anyone can know

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