The linebackers claim
they were from the north
or pole. Their secret.
But muscular, they face prepared
for a dazzling stream of white confetti -
ticker tapes of bonded and aged holly
fixed to posts, bricks,
see the street animated for
fleet and frigid travelers.
Directions are easy as this
child waits for the boatload -
sleep for boxes and crates.
But today the sun sleeps
in shadow for flying in each direction -
flakes twinkling -
toes and fingers for snowballs.
It's a good day for
pine, not pining for green parades.
They arrive with fallen leaves
too heavy for darling eyes.
Sleep while they sprint
Easy for their flight in vehicles,
carriages all named for transporting hearts -
as dawn crawls toward urchins awake.
Back to the North Pole they
© 2013 Larry Ingram
Welcome to the poetry web site of Larry Ingram. Larry is a poet, writer and observer of our culture.