Christmas Sums Each Thyme Corn Ear...
Its just another day each year like all the others and even others farther near. Maybe no one has big ears of corn whose sounds are sweet and buttered, then sea salted.
Listen again in the hours so still for the sound of those reindeer that old Santa does steer. His shiny old skool sleigh glides gently upon the roof's peaks the floats off and up high into ethereal worlds. His body is covered in some red velvet with white frill. He flew the same route just like every year. The route he has chosen in countless past years. A not secret terrestrial trail traversed totally after darkness no headlights and no fear. Diving down the chimney is the way he gets shit done quick and he's off next to the next served this year. He dreads leaving coal lumps for the bad kid who now wakes up without gifts left that were waiting for jolly Clause
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