North Pole Postal
By George and Hannah Bugas
’Twas the week before Christmas,
the office was humming.
The Roundup needed sent
‘cause Christmas was coming.
Of course, it’s December,
the weather turned polar.
A Don Day storm warning –
there’s an 1-80 closure.
The postal service called,
bad news – couldn't make it.
No mail will be delivered,
there is no way to take it.
The Roundup was frantic,
Andrea was a mess.
Would they get the paper out
if it couldn’t leave the press?
The pressure was mounting,
it was over the roof.
Hannah and Melissa were sweating
to get out the proof.
Jody and Denise worried
advertisements would suffer.
Without that good business,
times would surely be tougher.
Curt and Calli got angry,
sale reports needed to go out.
Isn’t there another way
to get the paper en route?
Dennis shouted out loud,
“This is out of control!
Should we look to that teamster
from the North Pole?”
“Old Santa?” she questioned.
Candice was clearly bemused.
“Isn’t he busy enough?
Will our request be refused?”
Right then, out of nowhere,
there came a loud knock.
Sadie dashed to the door
and stood frozen with shock.
It was old Claus himself,
much to their surprise.
He stood there so stoic,
then caught Dennis’ eyes.
“Your email seemed urgent,”
Santa said with a smile.
“Dennis, my old friend,
it’s been quite a while.”
“Last time I saw you
was at Stock Growers convention.”
“That’s right,” Dennis laughed.
“You drew quite the attention.”
Wide-eyed Roundup staffers
got quickly to action
and piled that sleigh full
to St. Nick’s satisfaction.
He grabbed up the ribbons
Ho, ho, ho, on my way!
I’ll make sure your readers
get their papers Christmas day.
Dennis smiled big and wide
as Santa rode out of sight.
“Merry Christmas Wyoming
and to all a goodnight.”
