Last Halloween,
a man wearing
a Santa costume
came to my porch
for trick-or-treating.
He had a big pack
on his shoulder.
The timing of his
visit surprised me.
It wasn’t close to
the merry season.
“Happy Halloween!”
I greeted him
and offered a bar
of dark chocolate.
“Thanks!” he said.
He took down
the pack and put
the treat away.
Rummaging, he
located something.
It was a snow globe
with a winter scene.
“Here’s your gift,”
the Santa explained.
He handed over
the snow globe.
The glass piece
must have come
from a store where
Christmas creep
had begun.
“How nice!”
I said, then shook
the flakes inside.
He closed the pack.
I watched him
arrange it neatly
on his shoulder.
The Santa said,
“I must hurry
on to distribute
gifts at homes
while calling out,
‘Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!’”
He seemed thrilled
by the idea.
“You’re too early,”
I said, protesting.
“Not for America,
the land of malls!”
he replied. “Here,
we deck the halls
with merchandize
all through October!”
It wasn’t even
Thanksgiving;
the Santa meant
to cancel fall.
Sarah Henry is retired from a major newspaper. Her poems have appeared in over a hundred journals, including Founders Favourites, Jalmurra, Open Door Magazine and Trouvaille Review. She lives and writes in a small Pennsylvania town.