Twas the night after Solstice, and the world did not end, The doomsdayers are storing their bulk-wrapped ramen. The Mayan long calendar isn’t news anymore, But some nut jobs will still hype a killer meteor.

Meanwhile, [...]]]> ** Inspired by the poem A Visit From St. Nicholas, written by Major Henry
Livingston, Jr., and * updated for world not ending (whew)

Twas the night after Solstice, and the world did not end,
The doomsdayers are storing their bulk-wrapped ramen.
The Mayan long calendar isn’t news anymore,
But some nut jobs will still hype a killer meteor.

Meanwhile, the stargeezers nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of (today’s Ursid peak) meteors danced in their heads.
Mojo with his Kindle and I with my (Kindle for Android) app,
Had just settled down for an astronomers nap.(hint: Santa, Janie needs a new Kindle)

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew all a jitter,
I tweeted the news to my followers on Twitter.

The 9-day old moon displayed such a show,
The terminator lit the north pole (region) near (crater) Barrow.
I tried and I tried, but to no avail,
To see the Sally Ride Impact Site of twin spacecraft GRAIL.

The moon viewing dwindled, down to the last few,
So we starhopped to some of the favorites we knew.
More rapid than photons, the targets they came,
We aimed and we pointed and called them by name.

“Now, Castor and Pollux, and Procyon, Capella!
On Aldebaran, and Sirius, Betelgeuse, the red fella
That takes us around the winter circle of stars,
There’s Jupiter, Saturn & Venus (at dawn), and I forgot to view Mars.

As red flashlights that before the dawns morning light,
Brilliantly flicker and soon are a memory bright,
A new wonder would paint the dark sky to pale blue,
The sunrise was nearing and morning twilight was too.

And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I stepped from the telescope and was turning around,
Near the chimney the stranger appeared with a bound.

He looked like an astronomer, bundled from head to his foot,
Like a stargazer his clothes were all tarnished with soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
Looked just like my telescope accessory pack.

His eyes – how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry.
He looked like we do after a cold winter starshow
Freezing but happy from the Milky Way glow.

The stump of a flashlight held tight in his teeth
Its soft red glow circled his head like a wreath
I asked him if he’d ever looked closely at Venus
“I’m working at night, I’ve no time for, um, the planets.”

He stepped away from the eyepiece, a right jolly old elf,
And I smiled as he gasped, in spite of myself.
He tapped on his keyboard, and then he pressed send
My vibrating phone welcomed a new Facebook friend.

I wanted his picture to hang in my cube,
And video to post (here’s my NASA vid) on YouTube.
But too quickly he pressed his finger to nose,
After checking his Google Maps app to the chimney he rose.

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
Happy non-apocalypse (again) to all and to all a clear night.

My apologies to Major Henry Livingston Jr. 1748 – 1828, author of ‘Twas
the Night before Christmas or Account of a Visit from St. Nicholas.
Previously erroneously believed to be written by Clement Clarke Moore.