Advent to Candlemas (Vol. 2)


Falls so
First a blur
In the air
Then a denseness
Of light
And  a carpet lies there.

A carpet
That hides
The squalid
And be-gentles
The soldier's tread;
A wondrous holiday
Of change
Before its unseamedness is shed.

And though
There was no snow
Where he was born
I like to think
He knew
The special quality of light
And sound
On that special morning:
A hallowing dispensation
To the raw ground.