the little girl swirls
in the warm
winter day, a day before Christmas.
she sees
me and says howdy neighbor
as she always does
before her mother waves
her away.
but she whispers conspiratorially
to me,
with a small hand cupped
to her mouth
and says,
santa is coming tonight.
then she spins off to retrieve
and kick the ball, to tire
herself
and try to fall sleep before
midnight.
far past my own bedtime.
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