'Twas the night before Christmas

And all though the place
Not a camera was clicking
No lights in the face

The flex-kit was hung in the studio with care
In hope that St Hurley soon would be there

The Photographers nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of new lenses danced in their heads;

And me in my sweats and the dogs in my lap,
Had just settled our brains for a long netflix nap,

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the couch to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I put my mask on,
Pulled back the curtains, and tried not to yawn.

The full moon reflecting off new-fallen snow,
Gave specular highlights to the objects below,

When what to my wondering eyes did appear,
But a miniature sailboat, crew, engineer,

With a little old Captain so lively and burly,
I knew in a moment he must be St. Hurley.

More rapid than eagles his associates they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:

"Now, Perdo! now, Jeku! now Garret and James!
On, Brittney! on, Stacey! on, Suzanne and Elaine!

To the top of the Studio! backdrop to the wall!
Now photograph! photograph! photograph all!"

So up to the lighting kits, the pro-boards too
With a tethered computer, and tripod anew—

As I jammed out my forehead, and started to squinch,
On the sailboat St. Hurley was running the winch.

He was dressed all in white, from his shorts to tee,
And his clothes were all soaked from the waves of the sea;

A bundle of cameras he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a model just (well, 20 years back).

He had a big smile and an ambifacial look
(At least, that was something I read in his book)

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon framed up a photo, from shoulders to head;

He spoke many words, and composed his shot,
And pressed down the shutter; my headshot was hot!

And flipping through photos with much haraunge,
And giving a nod, he shouted "Sha-BANG!";

He sprang to his boat, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all sailed like the down of a thistle.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he sailed out of sight—
“Happy Squinching to all, and to all a good night!”