• The scene; a winter's blanket white
    beneath magenta skies of night.
    I walk alone my hood pulled tight
    against the cold of JACK FROST's bite.
    The deer in regal silouhette
    not yoked to toy-filled sleigh as yet
    strolled gracefully; no sign of fret
    until the moment that our gaze met.
    Both afraid to break the spell.
    in perfect silence there we did dwell,
    'til from a roof some snow then fell.
    Dancer leapt into his flight
    and seconds later was gone from sight;
    but in the snow his hooves did write
    a tale of magiec winter's night.