Christmas
It’s another Christmas
My love
White doves and red holly berries
Making us jolly by custom
Decorate and celebrate
Our
Illusions of hope
And
As always
From the eves of our old farmhouse
Hang icicles
As pale blue as your eyes.
They remind us that
Harm
Ever present
Is the zero sum game,
The bane of hope.
It will never be the same again
When
All beloved is treading
On that slippery slope of ending.
*
Nothing moves in the snowy cold
Except a gray fox
Boldly lopping and diving for voles
In the frozen north pasture.
Survival is an iffy
And
Dangerous game these days,
Warm and comforted inside
A log fire burning
We feel
All the same
Safe for the
Renewal,
The new life,
The spring
Lying feral and fertile
Under the blue snow and white skies.
I wait for the climbing roses
Growing to be free
From the broken down gardens of the old order.
I see their wildness
Escaping
Overgrown
Over the log-chopped fencing
Running green
Into the marsh that has reclaimed
The orchard,
Finding its ancient passage back
To the Waloomsac River
And
Vaguely
Blesses us
In its insistence of the natural way.
oh yes to the angel and to this poignant poem of such heart and beauty!!
“I wait for the climbing roses, growing to be free from the broken down roses of the old order.” An intention of patience and faith to carry into the new year. Thank you, my friend. ❤