into the night sky

into the night sky
countless children gaze
in hope of a quick glimpse
a sudden glimmer
a silhouette
of an ancient ageless one
who comes from storybook pages
through the frosted panes
little eyes see
only the sea of deep space
of countless stars peering back
they then reason that
the old man must know
so they scurry
and scamper up
into their beds
to bury themselves beneath
warm patched quilts
sewn from old clothes
of children once
who also dreamed and hoped before
little ones
who looked for the impossible
and believed in flying sleighs
and hoof prints on rooftops
and a jolly old saint
who could slip down countless chimneys
in a single night
those were the days
and are now
as i marvel at my own little one
gazing into the vast night sky
or into colorful lights
and witness her burn just as bright
as i once did
so let it be
feed the merry flame
and beg a kiss beneath mistletoe
and know
that the boy is still somewhere
inside here
resurrected once a year
by memories stirred
and yet willing
for new memories to be made
and kept
right here
i am willing
i have my little window
in which I clearly see
she will sleep
and in the late moments of the eve
there will be movement
around the fireplace
faint noises in the living room
a moment of hushed magic and joy
as love is delivered
in the form of a toy

David B. Finlayson
December 14, 1999