Just when it seems
That the world has
And skeletal trees stand testament to a
We hang stars on every branch and bough
And light candles in every window,
Bringing warm hope
To the cold night.
When it seems the whole world should be
Hidden away and
In quiet solitude
For the Sun’s return,
Stories and laughter and gifts
Over vats of mulled goodness
Under a man-made Milky-Way.
And when the sharing is done
Like a thick, woollen throw, around our weary shoulders.
We sigh and allow our stuffed selves to
Into a contented sleep
With a wish of snow upon our lips
If we’re lucky,
We wake to find the world muted and muffled
By a new kind of
And we are reminded of the
That can be found in a