Five days before Christmas: no snow,
but the old fashioned wind is on schedule.
She sweeps in and out like a matron
who still owns the town, as she did in the day
of black leather and horse flesh, in the gray
drafty day when they built the old Opera
and the store fronts on Main Street.
A boy pedals away with a pink elephant
wrapped in silver and green,
through Milky Way lights to an outpost
lit up with nativity outlines, on the top of a hill.
The benighted town, jeweled in gold and red,
is crowned ‘cross its wide street.
A child of the town has a new toy to hold,
and the wind has her way with the night.