Sighting At A Stop Light Poem by Joe Bisicchia

We saw Santa this summer
on a motorcycle.
Like us, he was stopped at a new red.
Impressive how he seemed the patient fellow.

Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, and the rest
had just plowed through yellow.
Guess they were rushing to get to the beach.
And Santa smiled at us a Christmas scene.

We waved and waved,
and clapped in between.
Then we were on our merry way
when light turned green.



Published in Edify Fiction,2017