The last of the coals in the hearth glowed dimly,
And low and hollow the wind growled grimly,
The moonlight bare on the smothering snow,
Laughed silently thus in its phantasm glow.
Clenched in the teeth of our pup was the bone,
Of our holiday ham as he slept like a stone,
'Neath the withering fir that too early was sawn,
And would stripped clean tomorrow end up on the lawn.
The dishes like charnel from our gluttonous feast,
Lay scattered like ribs of some fabulous beast,
The scent of the meat yet hung in the air,
A silent vignette of a chewed cadavere.
And floorboard shadows from the advent candle,
Bobbed thereby in rhythm to sweet strains of Handel,
Like tongues of flame they guttered and leapt,
To quiet our spirits as vigil we kept.
For this night the sun would descend to the nether,
And wake an old soul bound in snow furs and leather,
With a mane bright and white as goose down feather,
And a thrice twisted crown made of holly and heather.
They told us he'd show on Nativity's Eve,
And a bundle of toys for good children he'd leave,
Or perhaps, it was said, a birch switch he'd tote,
"To beat out the devils!" They'd gleefully quote.
On cue, it would seem, as there my thoughts tarried,
To this side of Styx my judgement was ferried,
Or thus I inferred as I heard then a hoof clop,
And another draw nearer outside on my rooftop.
My mother and father I'd surely believed,
When earlier screaming and threats I'd received,
Should I and my sister keep raising a din,
We'd cry tears on Christmas because of our sin.
And then as the hoof falls though muffled by snow,
Rang out up above, I trembled below,
Huddled up tight on the couch by the tree,
I pled for God's mercy to justify me.
My mumbled petition croaked out and then ended,
As ashes like ebony snowfall descended,
And dusted the masonry under the flue,
Chilling my heart as my reticence grew.
Refuge, in panick, I found myself seeking,
I cast to my sister and called without speaking,
But a scowl contorted her somnolent brow,
Her face still creased from our earlier row.
And that last accusation, my heart, made afeard,
In my conscience, the guilt for my actions was seared,
Closing my eyes hard, I prayed a quick death,
And burried my head and held a deep breath.
The smell arrived first, like spruce tip and clove,
And a sulfury vapor with those, interwove,
Next came a jingling, course and arcane,
They may have been bells, but they sounded like chain.
The way a soul knows when another draws nigh,
I sensed in my spirit a presence pass by,
A spectre of purpose, stern and austere,
Fatherly, somehow, and likewise severe.
The breath in my lungs then gave up its yield,
And gasping and grasping the blanket revealed,
Just one of my eyes in the dark of the room,
And my nape hair stood straight as the thread on a loom.
A moment, no more, set my eye on the being,
A memory that to this day sets my heart fleeing,
Though faced away, I saw what I needed,
To warrant my fear before I retreated.
Like ancient rhymes told, smoke circled his pate,
His shifting suggesting unnatural weight,
His body was wrapped in a monstrous coat,
Smeared black in a layer of thick creosote.
My eyes snapped shut as quick as they'd peeled,
As a gruff voice rolled forth like a coffin unsealed,
"I saw your sister sleeping but I knew you were awake,
It's true, you know, the roll I play, of which the legends spake.
My job, it is, to judge the hearts of little girls and boys,
For one I bring a whipping switch, and for another, toys."
A momentary lapse in fear allowed my inquiry,
"Which" I gasped through welling tears, "did Santa bring to me?"
A silence led up to a wordless reply:
A rush like the wind in the starry night sky,
Once more I peaked out after long I had waited,
The speaker like teardrops had evaporated.
And all of the room remained just as before,
Save a neatly wrapped box 'neath the tree on the floor,
The trivial contents I hardly regard,
As the meaningful gift had been writ on the card.
"Good will to all men, and not just to saints,
Mercy's unbounded by mortal restraints,
By grace I have left this, your spirits to lift,
For what is a present but an undeserved gift?"