Crimson Chickadee Photography

I was strolling home from work just after midnight Christmas Eve
Watching snowflakes softly decorate the houses and the trees,
I had worked very hard and I was tired from head to toe
But I chose to walk back home instead of driving in the snow.

As I hummed a Christmas song I had a picture in my head
Of my children dreaming joyous dreams all bundled in their beds,
And I thought of my dear  who would be waiting up for me
With a plate of Christmas cookies and a nice hot cup of tea.

Then “splutt!” and object hit me and it knocked me off my feet,
Then “thwack!” another struck and laid me flat out in the street.
By the time a third one nailed me, ricocheting off my back,
I was scrambling to a nearby bush to hide from this attack.

My first thought was of hoodlums throwing snowballs just for fun
And I vowed to seek revenge on them before the night was done,
But it soon became apparent that this substance wasn’t snow
From the fresh and pungent odor which was wrinkling up my nose.

As I sat there in confusion trying to sort the whole thing out,
I heard jingling from above and then a voice began to shout,
And I stared in stunned amazement from my now  quite frozen seat
As Santa’s sleigh and reindeer landed swiftly in the street.

Well Santa rushed right over and extended me a hand
And his grip was quite impressive as he quickly helped me stand,
Then he scowled at all his reindeer as his eyes surveyed the scene
And he handed me a moistened towel to wipe my clothing clean.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,”  he said to me, “for any harm I’ve caused you,
It’s my reindeer’s fault, of course, but they insist they never saw you,
And when you fly around the world with reindeer I’m afraid,
That people getting hit is just a hazard of the trade.”

Then he walked me to his sleigh and let me stroke the reindeer’s fur,
And I thought I heard them snicker but I couldn’t say for sure,
Then Santa shook my hand and when convinced I was alright,
He hopped back inside his sleigh and they flew off into the night.

When morning came and all my children’s presents were unwrapped
I motioned for them all to come and sit upon my lap,
And their eyes began to widen and they stared with gaping jaws
As I spoke in vivid detail of my night with Santa Claus.

My dear then brought us over one last present from the tree

And  said it was from Santa and  handed it to me.

Inside was a gift certificate

With a note from Santa in which I still have to this date

Now every year at Christmas I display my wonderful gift of photographs as such a wonderful sight,
And a varnished piece of reindeer dung I salvaged from that night,
And I gather all my loved ones and retell the tale with glee
Of my special night with Santa when his reindeer pooped on me.

Poem by Bob Lazzar-Atwood…revisions by me:)

Gift certificates are available in any dollar amount by 5′s.