That slightly obnoxious sound Christmas morning
When the antsy nieces and nephews run down
The wooden halls and stairs to see,
They want to know the culmination, the
Final results of the test of naughty or nice,
Whether last month's good deeds outweighed the year's bad
And find out what their reward for that is.
Yet as you listen closely, you realize that
Their true excitement lies not in overwrought notions of worth
But in the simplicity of hope and the hope of joy,
Carried to my piqued ears, as they try to sneak by
And just as those excited footsteps
I am welcomed this morning by rain
Though her intention, as theirs, was never to wake me
I am amused by her whispering all the same.
