This week, we have two seasonal poems, from Jill Mortiboys and Barbara Keeling.
We wait for the shortest day
When the year turns.
A toddler waits for Santa, who’ll come
With gifts, he learns.
The brandy waits for its moment
When the pudding burns.
The window waits for the frost to come
And paint ferns.
A mother waits for a new birth
For which all yearn.
AN OLD-FASHIONED CHRISTMAS
Snow showers turn the landscape into a lovely Winter white
Jack frost spreads lacy patterns over all the window panes
Icicles hang from roofs sparkling in the morning light.
Trees are frozen with icy branches around the snowy lanes.
The gas lamps are lit all along the cobbled streets
In the cottage latticed window one candle glows
The village shop is busy selling bags of coloured sweets
Children build snowmen although the cold wind blows
The sunrise will be streaked with shades of pink and red
Soon the dawn will break into another Christmas Day
Children wake early and excited and tumble out of bed
Hoping that Santa has brought them presents on his sleigh
Homes are decorated with ivy. mistletoe and holly
Bells ring, choirs sing, for it’s the season to be jolly.
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