image from dreamstime.com
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Midnight shakes frost from his whiskers~ Chester the squirrel slips into the chimney, claws click on brick, tail a question mark in the soot. Inside his sack: acorns wrapped in tinfoil, stolen sprigs of holly, a walnut cracked open to show its golden heart. He leaves them in boots, on windowsills, behind the dog’s water bowl (just to watch him sniff). Dawn finds Chester back in his oak, giddy with sugarplum theft, dreaming of next year~ Maybe I’ll learn to drive a sleigh.
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