'Twas the night before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
the height of holiday cheer,
spreading through paths of isthmus,
announcing the time of year.

People are bustling,
buying last-minute presents,
the children are a-hustling,
scaring all of the pheasants.

Red ribbons are strung high,
colors of newly blossomed heaths,
stark against the grey sky,
reflected by ornament wreaths.

Candles of warmth lit aflame,
placed above crackling hearth embers,
pictures leaning on their frame,
coming and going with all the Decembers.

Giggling children write their letters,
to a jolly old man, tonight,
asking for toys and a sweater,
or maybe a brave wooden knight.

Then all the parents will come in,
hang their coats on the wooden rack,
take off boots covering the shin,
placing them all in a stack.

Tuck their children in their beds,
whisper softly a “goodnight”.
And when the dreams spin in their heads,
Santa shimmies down tonight.

(Inspired by the original, attributed to Clement Clarke Moore)