'Twas the night before Christmas, all bands were aglow, Ham radios whispered through the frosty night's show. Antennas stood watch, with their vertical pride, While spurious submissions danced on the side. Radio frequencies hummed in the dark, Casting signals afar, a small spark, Through pole and counterpoise, firm on the ground, Round the earth's radius, they spread their sound. Saturday morning, with breakfast at dawn, I wondered if Frank's radio would ever be drawn— Hooked up and buzzing ’neath solar's bright flares, Unafraid of geomagnetic storms in layers. Yet Grumpy Charlie, with a frown so deep, Pondered the sky where strange signals creep. The night held its breath with antennas high, As hope twinkled softly in the wintry sky.