inside his deer-pulled sleigh. Although
the reindeer didn't fly from off the flatbed
truck on which they stood as still as all
the angels lighting up the street above
it must have been St. Nick himself that
visited the little town. The children
in their strollers waving, hoping he
would throw a candy down, or sitting
on the curb, eyes big, aglow, they knew.
Their parents saw a man dressed up
to signal that there'd be no further floats
or bands or dancers prancing by, but on
the faces of the smallest ones,
was knowledge of a deeper kind.
(c) Ellen Gillette, 2014
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