Sky Rider

 I feel the wind rush across my face in this early morning vastness. It’s hand biting. The sky is as black as it will be for this night, its own face, dark as coal as the stars poke through the heavens to the earth below. The only light that lingers to guide my way will soon vanish beneath the horizon, Sol’s lesser brother succumbing to dawn’s eruption.

I am tired, my night’s work finished. My hands ache as I hold tight the leather reins that guide my steeds. Would these old mittens give way, my flesh would be ripped from the bone and I would not possess the strength to control their swiftness, for their power is like nothing that walks this world.

 With each passing year the weariness creeps further into my bones at night’s end, but it does not dilute my spirit, for there is nothing like the spirit of Christmas. It is whole, and pure, and all that is good with the world. It lifts my soul and enlivens my very being. Would I not ride the heavens each year, I would surely pass into oblivion.

The blackness that was the night is now not so dark. It is a mottled gray that hangs beneath the stars as their light begins to fade. I see the spires of yellow and orange that begin to peak above the rim of the world. Dawn is upon me and I must complete my journey before the magic begins to fade. With one snap of the heavy reigns my steeds become swifter than the lightning that blazes across a summer’s sky...

On Dasher on Dancer on Prancer and Vixen, on Comet on Cupid on Donner and Blitzen....

To the top of the world with great haste do I call, Dash away, dash away, dash away all.

Merry Christmas to one and all, and may peace be within your heart.