The lights burn bright in the city this night,
Downtown is abuzz with sound;
The St. Nicks are frantic coddling the kids
In stores that are reverent ground.
 
As choirs sing, the cash registers ring
And shoppers jostle for space;
The orders come in with a magical din
And money is doled out apace.
 
We deck the halls in magnificent malls
Sating ourselves in mirth;
For tis the season to dispense with reason, 
Blind to the miraculous birth;
 
As her baby dozes and her pocketbook closes,
A young mother buys a last toy;
It’s got to be right, this gift a delight 
For nothing’s too good for her boy.
 
“Oh, where did I park?” she says in the dark,
To The Salvation Army’s young man;
He smiles and shrugs, his arms in a hug
So cold he barely can stand.
 
“A donation for charity?” he says with such clarity
That the startled young mother pauses;
“We’ve so much to do, but the coins are so few,
And there’s just too many good causes.”
 
She forces a grin and deems it a sin
To deny this numb soldier in need;
But she hasn’t the will to part with a bill
And succumbs to the season of greed.
 
How far have we strayed since the child was laid
In that manger so long ago?
Is there even a clue in all that we do
To remind us of what’s faithful and true?
 
High in the sky a star passes by,
Three kings in timeless pursuit;
Try to remember that birth in December;
There’s still time to discover the route.

William Dantini lives in North Carolina.