Snow disguised the mosquitoes
and flies
Buried deep the loam and marl
the tale I think of is not from
tomorrow
It happened yesterday.
The North Wind played familiar
Christmas tunes
over the cords sweeping the drifts.
Nothing complicated, basic rifts;
on the cliffs of the roadside
we played.
Every house had transformed into
a mess of blinking lights.
We scaled bushes, five-year-old
kindergarten twins, and cold
Ecstatic with freedom outside,
we stayed
Making angels and follow my paths.
He stopped in a car going by us.
We gawked. We thought him so stylish.
He talked. He didn't have to,
his pedestal already made.
He smiled at us guiltily.
He couldn't hide his crows' eyes
He gave us each a nice surprize
said Merry Christmas, you can
trade
Mine was a Scottie who wagged
his tail.
His eyes lit up, he barked.
The man said, "I'm parked
in the road. Gotta go. I'll be
late>"
My sister's toy was Santa Claus.
He waved a little pot
and ho-ho-hoed a lot;
both were cleverly battery-laid.
The two men in the car drove off
Mom took our toys away
Said you don't know how your father
looks
you'll end up early graves.
It was Daddy, we insisted;
He knew both of our names.
Oh you and your games
our mother said
and being authority, had her way.
