‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all thro’ the wood,
Not a creature was stirring, and that was not good;
For Berthold had hung up his cam’ra with care,
In hopes the “Low Dark Ones” soon would be there.
He’d checked all the settings, he’d put out the feed,
And eagerly waited, with good books to read.
But Berthold had just about given up on the game
Shaking his head, sad to see nothing came–
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
That he ran in the field to see what’s the matter.
Tripping over his pumpkins and Halloween junk—
Running past the old graveyard and dodging a skunk–
When, what to his screen-glazèd eyes should appear,
But that all of his internet friends were now here!
With a look of surprise, did the blogger exclaim,
And he chuckled, and shouted, and call’d them by name:
“We all know our names,” chorused his followers all.
”Then why,” said BG, “Have you come this evening to call?
For there’s naught going on, as my camera shows,
It only records ‘coz sometimes the wind blows.”
”Oh, you mean like your books?” Waberthold chimed in.
And Berthold shot him a look, erasing his grin.
“As I was saying, there is nothing to see,
The forest here’s quiet as quiet can be.
Not that it matters, since I can’t record sound,
(If only a cam’ra like Katie Dawn’s could be found!)
But anyway, not a creature is stirring, not even a—”
At which point, his friends all together said “shhh!”
“You already said that,” they all pointed out.
“And we’ve come to tell you what the season’s about.”
“Eh?” said Berthold, looking dazed and confused.
(Could it be they had realized he was less than enthused?)
You’re lucky your stocking’s not filled up with coal.”
“The point of the season is family and friends,
Not churning out ‘content’, as if it ne’er ends.”
Berthold began nodding. “Yes, yes; now I see what you mean!”
“Thanks all, for coming, and happy Hallo–”
“Argh!” said Mark, with a scream.
“Just kidding, of course, Happy Holidays one and all!”
They said cheery farewells, till the next time they’d call.
And Berthold went home full of holiday cheer,
And only later did see on his camera appear
Just barely in sight through the winter night’s fog
The shape of a—something. A coyote? A reindeer? A dog?
At any rate, whether man or a woman or a gigantic hound–
Even though, as I’ve said, the camera does not record sound–
I am sure it exclaimed, ere it vanished from sight—
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!”