Some say you guide Santa's sled
across the dark expanse.
But you are the true shamans
of the north, pulling our spirits
behind you across the frigid plains.
We follow your clicking heels,
your hot breath clouding
the sky and leading the way.
We see your antlers sprout
and fall each season,
like the northern sun,
every rising and setting
marking half a year.
Reindeer, you are keepers of time,
your souls always moving.
You eat lichen and moss,
swallowing the magic of the Earth.
You know nothing of us
but we see your other-worldly ways,
and we know your wild heart
is the only gift we ever need.
About the Author: Mario Milosevic’s poems have appeared in many print and online journals, and in the anthology Poets Against the War. He lives in Washington State, where he works as a small town librarian. He has published two collections of poems, Animal Life and Fantasy Life.
Copyright © 2004 by Mario Milosevic. The poem not be reproduced in any form without the author’s express written permission.