12/13/2025
The Tale of Ol’ Saint Nicholas
When winter came softly to town after town,
With snowflakes like feathers drifting gently down,
Ol’ Saint Nicholas walked through the hush of the street,
Leaving warm little footprints in snow crisp and sweet.
His robe was a green like the pine in the glen,
A color of life that returns once again.
Not red was his mantle, but evergreen bright,
A promise of hope in the heart of the night.
The chimneys stood silent, the stars shone so clear,
As carols and laughter rang out far and near.
The weather was snowy, the cold sharp and true,
That kind of white Christmas folks dream about too.
But Nicholas paused not for riches or fame,
For gold was not ever his reason or aim.
He stopped at the market, the farms, and the square,
Where neighbors still gathered with kindness to share.
“Give local,” he whispered, “lift those close to you,
The baker, the farmer, the maker you knew.
Each coin spent with care, each gift bought nearby,
Helps roots grow much deeper than gifts passing by.”
He smiled at the children, the elders, the crew,
Who swept walks and shoveled the snow drifting through.
For community thrived when folks helped one another,
Each neighbor a sister, each stranger a brother.
So remember this tale when the snowfall is deep,
And Christmas draws near while the world seems asleep:
In green-robed Saint Nicholas, wisdom is found—
The greatest of gifts is supporting your town.
