Moose, reindeer, herbs, herds of elk and their ilk,

Decorate the cake, and on top, Gabriel blowing for a dawning morning,

While dapper clad curmudgeons circulate below,

Bludgeoning the good times, anxious, itching, to put a stop to all this

Happy be-bopping, flipping, flopping, gymnastics of joy,

Cartwheels that all the Ghost Children do

For sheer sweetness of night and really and truly snow,

Crystallizing frost, falling frozen

In time and delight, sweet popsicle dreams:

Their souls and bringing gifts,

Wiseacres, wisecrackers,

Landowners, homeowners wandering about,

Shows and displays of wonderful winning and

Brand new shoes like all God's Ghost Children,

Little Boy Blue, Blue Boy, horn blowing and sheep are definitely scattered in the corn crib, tripping over Angels,

Tangled up in hairy situations, scary situations,

Lost and love locked, jammed and jellied, jarred and shelved, labeled and scrambled.

So that no one knows how long this will last,

This fast, this broken ornamental singing.

Stinging  snowflakes burn Ghost Children's cheeks, like

Tears and freeze into little Icicle designs,

Putting their weeping, wanting, permanently placed in winter,

Vintage and variable as they cross the open spaces,