The Magic Arrival

A story of the visit of Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.

By Craig Hosterman

There lives within each of us a child who wants to believein old man Claus.

The story of Nicholas is best told

when the year's shadowstretches long across the land

and winter's blanketcovers earth's bed

in the unmarked innocenceof morning.

It is then,as icy fingers gently grasp December's end

and summer lies dormant beneath the snow,that he mysteriously arrives --

without disturbing the soft powderin the way that mankind does.

From the land of eternal whitehe's gathered backthe energy spent

in last year's passing,

and now slipsinto the night

to fulfill the promisethat keeps the world

forever young.

The team pulls his gilded sleighon polished runners,

tracing an invisible pathacross the mind,

while gloved fingers flick long strandsof oiled leather messages

to the Icelandic eightthat drop him softly

at each chimney edge.

Invisibly he drops in -unannounced and expected,but too late to be greeted.

He shakes himself freeof the dark warm dust,

to show his belted girth clothedin the richness

of print's first color.

As he smiles through a mass of winter white,the lines of his face are crinkled with laughter

and etched with stories that have beentraced from the imagination of our memories -

past to present.

He turns toward the treeand the lights dance across his face,

flicker past his hunched backand cast shadows on the heavy weight

of the dreams he carries.

Quickly he spills forthhis bag full of packages

wrapped in nature's huesand splashed with ribbons of delight.

There's surprise, laughter and remembrance.The brightness of celebration.The warmth of acquaintance.

All dancing to the tune of year's renewal,

as he spreads themunder the tree.

When finishedhe leaves but telltale signs -

windswept footprints,the lingering scent of pipe

and a faint echo of laughterwhispering in the breeze.

For it is his fatenever to have existed,

and forever to be remembered.

Imbedded in literature's landscape,his immortality

can only move quietlyfrm one generation to the next.

He takes his leavebefore sun peeks over the edge of morning

and night skips into tomorrow -In that quiet moment

when the whole world is still.

Before children's eyesopen with the excitement of discovery,

and the reality of truthspoils the pleasant fiction of belief.

His time is but a brief memory of waking.The moment between then and now,

when the mind's myst blurs the differencebetween dream and reality, imagination and truth.

Though his visit be brief,it's continually recounted

by the young in heartfor the young in age,

and revitalized by the wearyfor the unsuspecting.

You see,it's easy to believein old man Santa.

Part of him is our father,and our grandfather,

and even his father before him.

If you liked this presentation, you can buy a hard bound bookVersion by going to www.blurb.comAnd searching for “Craig Hosterman” in the bookstore. The direct link is:http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/293746