post-holiday poem

NPR’s this american life had stories about the
lengths some parents have gone to make the
good saint real I was too young to recall when
he brought our pony but there are photos of
my sisters and me astride the gentle beast and
a rather thin santa holding the bridle my folks
were realists of course santa didn’t come down
the chimney ours was too narrow he came in
the door and in the morning the cookies and
milk were always gone I won’t repeat the
worst NPR story but my parents never threw
horse apples on the roof to show reindeer had
been there – well, they needn’t would they as
he did come through the door horse apples
in the yard wouldn’t have been mistaken for
reindeer turds – where were the hoof marks
anyway we knew horse apples – used them
frozen for snowballs when snow was scarce