The Evening Before Saint Nicholas Day

Living in Vienna
is full of days of wine and roses,
true,

but when the days
grow shorter


and nights
start creeping up
on you

at four o'clock
in the afternoon,

a mysterious transformation
takes place.

Rose bushes get wrapped with burlap,
turning proud garden queens into bag ladies.

No more
is it a proliferation of blooming roses
that lines your paths,
but paper wrapped pots of red and ivory Poinsettia,
sitting like silent congregations
in front of flower shops.

They stare at you,
flaming red, one-eyed, full of resentment
that instead of taking one of them home,
you fell in love with a white Amaryllis.

You hold your flower tight,
and hurry home
through dimly lit
narrow medieval streets.

All of a sudden
your every step

echoes
from ancient walls.

You walk faster,
trying to escape

all those shop windows
assaulting you

with enigmatic displays
in red and black.

You can't help
but notice that

among the innocent looking displays,

scary
little furry horned creatures
are lurking,

as if waiting for prey,

with large whicker panniers,
chains in hand.

Just when you feel close
to loosing your sense of composure,
you turn the corner.

There, sheltering light
from large glass chandeliers
falls out onto the pavement,
reaching out to you,
offering shelter.

*

Krampus:
Traditionally, young men dress up as the Krampus in the first two weeks of December and particularly in the evening of December 5 and roam the streets frightening children (and adults) with rusty chains and bells. In some rural areas also slight birching especially of young females by the Krampus is part of tradition.
(Source: Wikipedia)

After St. Nicholas' visit
He has left chocolates,
apples, nuts, and clementines.

*
First published
on December 6, 2007