and sound.

They saw Christmas trees and stockings galore,
And enough milk and cookies, that they'd never need more.

With no explanation and without a goodbye,
Santa hopped on his sleigh and started to fly.

So there they all were, on the roof by themselves,
When they noticed a sign that read, "WE LOVE THE ELVES!"

And children popped up from behind rows of trees.
They were hiding all over, behind tables and wreathes.

They circled the elves as they started to cheer
So loudly that elves at the South Pole could hear!

And under the tree, which was grandest of all,
Presents were waiting, some large and some small,

Some wrapped with bows, some with bells that would jingle,
But each with a note that was signed by Kris Kringle.

All the elves got a gift, and they liked every one.
Just a few trades were made before gifting was done.

By the end, they were speechless with such gratitude.
(And elves always talk, unless chewing their food.)

It was time to turn in, for the younger elves' sake.
They'd be working tomorrow (enough of this break).

And as he lay down to sleep, filled with holiday spirit,
A little elf spoke, but it was quite hard to hear it.

He whispered the words with a childish delight,
"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a goodnight..."

VI

CLOUDPLAY

Everyday nightly, the clouds get together.
They all float with ease since they're light as a feather.

They form into shapes, like a man molding clay,
And they laugh at each other because that's how they play.

The wind swirls around and it sets them off spinning,
While the moon keeps an eye on them, constantly grinning.

And the stars start to twinkle and whistle a tune,
Which never gets old for the ocean and moon.

The waves applaud loudly by crashing the shore,
While the trees grow up higher to listen some more.

If you wander outside and you look up by chance,
You may catch the clouds in the midst of their dance.

But you have to be quick because clouds move along,
And they float through the sky at the end of the song.

They drift all directions, this way and that,
The fluffy clouds, droopy clouds, skinny and fat.

And when each of them settles in its own patch of sky,
They're sad that it's over, and some of them cry.

A tear from a cloud is not like yours or mine.
It falls from the sky in a very straight line.

It wets all the grass and it splashes the lakes.
And the animals love all the sounds that it makes.

We