T’was the eve before Christmas and down by the stream,
the moles squealed and scrambled, as in a bad dream!
The snowstorm that blasted the valley that day
had flooded the tunnels; all nests flushed away.
Mama mole bundled her babies up tight,
shivering, “Where can we spend this cold night?”
Papa mole helped them climb out of the mud.
On mounting the bank, they heard a great ‘thud’.
The family looked up, OH, what a surprise –
a laughing old man dressed in red, filled their eyes.
He knelt in the snow, scooped them up with such love,
gently, he slipped them inside his warm glove.
He’d finished his rounds, then heard of the plight
of riverbank creatures that wet, snowy night.
They swooped on upstream calling out in the dark,
“Any need help? We’re the Santa’s Sleigh-Ark.”
As the sleigh flew along, they gathered a crew,
of rats, otters, mice, and a soggy duck too.
They pulled tight the scarves, all snuggled together,
so grateful for safety from treacherous weather.
The sleigh landed, CRUNCH, on North Pole’s ice strip.
The river crew marveled at their first sky trip.
The reindeer were settled in stable with straw,
but Santa had plans for the damp, homeless poor.
He kindled the fire, put chestnuts to roast,
he smothered with butter and honey, the toast;
he brewed pots of tea, and laid out the mince pies,
then chuckling, he pulled out his festive surprise.
How could he know? Had he planned more to share?
Santa had presents for each of them there.
From wee smallest mole to old grandpa Duck;
they shed a few tears, overwhelmed with their luck.
They pulled Christmas crackers, told jokes old and new,
sipped their mulled wine; hummed yule carols too.
“Three Cheers to Santa, for saving the day!”
The riverbank creatures raised loud their Hooray!
This an entry in Susanna leonard Hill’s Christmas Flash Fiction Competition – open until tomorrow, if you want to join in. Do check out all the other fabulous entries.