(with abject apologies to Clement Moore)

Twas the sleep-preferred diurnal period before the non-denominational winter celebration, when all through the dwelling place

Not a life-privileged thing was stirring, not even a member of the species mus musculus.

The gift receptacles of choice were placed by the designated location with care,

In hopes that a culturally appropriate giver of gifts soon would be there.

The people of youth were nestled all snug in their sleeping places,

While visions of diverse comfort foods danced in their heads.

And the female caregiver in her gender-neutral attire, and I in my gender-neutral attire,

Had just settled our brains for a long cold seasonal nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from my sleeping place to see if I needed to call the local law enforcement officers to negotiate.

Away to the window I flew like a very fast thing,

Tore open the shutters and opened the window.

The moon on the non-binary-gender chest analogy of the new-fallen snow

Gave the brightness of midday to objects below

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

But a miniature cold winter transportation device and eight reindeer of diverse size.

With a driver endowed with age but not stature so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it must be the cis-male quasi-religious figure associated with the non-denominational winter celebration.

More rapid than speed-privileged things zir reindeer they came,

And ze whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

Now Runner of Speed! Now, Mover with Grace! Now, Performer with Fancy Footwork and Fox with Femaleness!

On, Comet! On Pagan Love God, on Donner and Blitzen! (and I wondered if reindeer had orgies, for surely this was an invitation to one)

To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!

Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As leaves of low moisture that before the non-hostile extreme weather fly

When they meet with a non-hostile obstacle, are drawn to the sky,

So up to the house-top the reindeer they flew

With the cold winter transportation device and the cis-male quasi-religious figure too.

And then, in a non-binary-gender twinkling, I heard on the roof

The prancing and pawing of each non-size-enhanced hoof.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,

Down the chimney the cis-male quasi-religious figure came with a bound.



Ze was dressed all in the skins of murdered animals, from zir head to zir foot,

And zir clothes were all smeared in a non-judgmental manner with ashes and soot.

A bundle of age-appropriate items ze had flung on his back,

And ze looked like an itinerant seller of items just opening zir pack.

Zir eyes they were twinkle-privileged! Zir dimples how merriness-enhanced!

Zir cheeks were like roses, not that zir cheeks being like roses is a bad thing, zir nose like a cherry!

Zir mouth of smallness was drawn up like a non-violent bow,

And the cis-normative male beard on zir chin was as white as the cold season precipitation.

The stump of a pipe ze held tight in zir teeth,

And despite the danger of lung cancer the smoke it encircled zir head like a seasonal garland.

Ze had a broad face and a little round belly from eating too much fatty food,

So it shook when ze laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!



Ze was chubby and plump, a cis-male normative old white elf,

And even though it was disrespectful I laughed when I saw zir in spite of myself.

A wink of zir eye and a twist of zir head,

Soon gave me to know I need not be fear-enhanced.



Ze spoke not a word but went to zir occupation of choice,

And filled all the gift receptacles, then turned with a sharp motion.

And laying zir finger aside of zir nose,

And giving a nod up the chimney ze went!

Ze sprang to zir cold weather transportation, to zir team gave a whistle,

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.

By I heard ze exclaim ere ze drove out of sight,

“Happy non-denominational seasonal festival to all, and to all a good night!”

In other news, if any of you should chance to find what passes for my sanity, please send it back. I miss it.

Update: Welcome to Instapundit readers!