My Christmas bird poem


A few years back, I endeavored to create an original Christmas story every season. Along the way, I gave up on that and the reasons escape me. But this is one that I saved.
THE GREAT CHRISTMAS BIRD/2006
Long, long ago, perhaps you have heard
The story they tell of the great Christmas bird.
His feathers were white, his beak it was full
In truth, he was simply a lonely sea gull.
Each winter, they say, more often than not
He’d fly over rooftops to see what was what.
He ranged up and down and from far and from near
Just checking to see if we had Christmas cheer.
He swooped down this chimney and sooty and black,
Crashed in like a dummy, fell flat on his back.
He sat there in darkness, a pitiful sight
Couldn’t tell him from the dark of the night.
No tree in the foyer, no lights in the hall
No holiday spirit, no … none at all
He brushed himself off, aimed for the sky
He’d be out in a minute, at least by and by.
He flapped his great wings, set his compass for North
He’d get there the third day, or maybe the fourth
He had to reach Santa, with no time to spare
So stockings could be hung by the chimney with care.
With ice on his wings, a cold wind in his face
He hoped he could somehow find Santa’s place
He saw the horizon, bleak white with snow
He noticed the ground, so chilling below.
In a blizzard he landed, said “That was hard,
I should have sent Santa a holiday card.”
He knocked and he waited, waited some more
Finally, somebody opened the door.
“Oh, Santa,” she cried, “Oh, my precious word,
He’s finally made it, the great Christmas bird.”
Our hero was welcomed with cookies and tea
Which he accepted with unbridled glee.
The bird talked to Santa of places he’d been
Big houses, small houses, those in between
Of places where Christmas would be lots of fun
And of others where probably there would be none.
Santa sat back and rubbed his red nose
Then he got up and went for his clothes
He went to his stable and hitched up his team
Said he’d deliver a holiday dream.
Like a rocket, the sleigh roared into the night
Santa, the reindeer, an unusual sight
A special delivery, not often we see
The calendar read only twelve-23.
Santa dropped in, decorated the room
With lights and a tree to replace all the gloom
“That bird knows his business,” he said with a smile
“He’s been helping me out for a really long while.”
The bird was relaxing with hot cocoa mix
When Santa returned, having made the great fix
The bird said to Santa, “I don’t need a gift,
But when you go back, could I catch a lift?”
Most of us know that Santa is wise
But when we look up to the cold winter skies
We see the white seagull, with soot on his wings
Sometimes it’s why the cheer Santa brings.

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