Monday Muse Writes to Dear Santa

Dear Santa,

The Night Before Christmas probably is too late to be e-mailing but in our Little Town of Bethlehem, We Three Kings of Orient Are the only postal service open late, and they refuse to guarantee even this Little Drummer Boy that his letter will reach you before NORAD begins tracking your every move.

I trust Good King Wenceslas — he's always saying, "Children, Go Where I Send Thee." — and so decided to Google you. Amazing what you can learn from the Internet! Who would have thought the North Pole was big enough for all the Angels We Have Heard on High, not to mention Angels From the Realms of Glory, too? All these years I thought you were living at Winter Wonderland, now I find out you hole up with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer opposite some place called O Tannenbaum in the village of Adeste Fideles. Go figure. Nice cover you got. Does the State Department know about you?

Maybe my list — I promise you it's short enough you won't have to be checking it once, then checking it twice — will end up in your spam folder with all the other Holly and the Ivy that's been accumulating since the November elections. No matter. I still believe: Santa Clause Is Coming to Town. I'm ready to Deck the Halls, ring whatever Jingle Bells I have to before the Night of Silence descends and my ISP goes down. I'll even join the March of the Kings if it will make a difference to you, Santa Baby.

Do you know I'm planning to go A'Wassailing before I start roasting chestnuts on an open fire? Just thought you'd want to know, because Past Three O'Clock in the morning, our Little Donkey taxi service stops running. If you get into trouble, you're on your own. Those guys are bad news. They'd rather Let It Snow than head out In the Bleak Midwinter to give a lift to some Greensleeves on a Sleigh Ride who's been drinkin' and Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree. Even When Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer and my bro' Feliz Navidad got caught up in some unfortunate Christmas Dragnet — he tried his best to explain Baby, It's Cold Outside — they still wouldn't come. Believe me, it was the Bells of St. Mary, a real Blue Christmas, that year. The Man With All the Toys is still laughing.

Well, about that list. Like everyone else This Time of Year, I Wonder as I Wander and I have been thinking hard While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks at night. The thing I most want, my one must-have: Silver Bells. Expensive, I know. But I've been good, for goodness sakes! 

I promise you, unlike Last Christmas, I'll take good care of whatever Little St. Nick brings me but I want Nuttin' Else but those Silver Bells. I'm willing to secret them Away in a Manger with The Friendly Beasts, if I have to. I know Mary's Sweet Little Jesus Boy won't mind. I heard there's plenty of room in that stable.

Other than a new silk top hat for Frosty the Snowman, who, by the way, won't be coming Home for the Holidays, All I Want for Christmas is some Pretty Paper to encourage me to write earlier next season. I wouldn't mind if you leave the milk and cookies untouched, either. I'll be needing some energy to stay awake long enough to see who's Kissin' By the Mistletoe. 

Oh, there is this one other thing. Now that the president's not so occupied with getting re-elected and got plenty of votes to make his own policy, I'd like to ask you to give him one last chance to Go Tell It on the Mountain, declare In dulci jubilo right here on Earth.

It really is The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!

It's been fun writing to ya, Santa. Suzy Snowflakes says to say hi. Ever since receiving Gabriel's Message virtually, she's been looking forward to The Twelve Days of Christmas. I know she won't be disappointed.

Here's hoping you get to Sleep in Heavenly Peace as soon as your run's done. Just remember to Count Your Blessings Instead of Sheep.

Sincerely and with much Joy to the World, 

Cool Yule.

P.S. It wouldn't hurt one bit to ask your elves to slide into your bulging bag a box or two of newly printed-on-demand copies of Neruda's Memoirs: Poems (T.S. Poetry Press, 2011) and drop them off to poetry lovers everywhere. A writer's got to make a living, you know. 

© 2012 Maureen E. Doallas
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How about you? Still waiting to write your letter (or a poem) to Santa? Think you could jazz it up by scattering through your text the titles of or words from popular holiday songs? Share your own missive, or drop a link to it, in the Comments section.