Darkness cloaks this room of firelight, dog with elbows hard as iron, fawn with legs longer than reason.
My grandchildren will come in the morning, strewing snow, chattering like lightning.
‘He will become a mighty buck,’ I say, ‘just like me.’
They laugh, climb into my lap, argue about feeding the fawn, wear the studded dog collar as a crown.
Fire flickers, foal bleats, I am tired.
Christmas eve is such a busy night for me and my reindeer.