While not written for Christmas specifically, this fits the mood of the day for me - this gray, drizzly yet pleasant Christmas Eve - speaking of the possibility of gifts unknown...
The meadow in the morn
spiced with sage and the remains of the year,
covered in gentle frost
like a grandmother’s shawl
and ready to retire for the long
blessed sleep,
has sighed
and, in sighing,
breathed her sweet breath into the
field
scattering the starlings to the wind.
The starlings, in turn,
dash away, some to the oak
and some to the sycamore,
still others to points beyond
the meadow,
until soon, all are gone.
Save one.
The final starling has chased after
a crow
whose lonely call over the field
spoke to the emptiness that had begun
to overtake this pasture
on this early winter’s morn.
So now, this starling and this crow
have jumped and soared,
waltzed on the wind and
swung across the sky,
two dancers, two dances
gently embrace above this lonely meadow
on this no longer lonely morn.
A merry Christmas, happy holiday and pleasant weekend to one and all.
~Dan
No comments:
Post a Comment