As Is His Will

The Mass is said, the bells are still. A candle blinks upon the hill.
‘Tis Christmas night and magic wakes as snow falls softly, flake by flake.
The Faithfull’s feet have crunched the ice and now lie snugly,
Warm and nice, within the beds of gentles sleeping;
All unaware of what comes creeping.

Love and Peace are on the air and ruffle every whisker, hair
That they do pass in woodland glen. They bless the best of creation then
Turn to the town all clothed in white, to bless the good this winter’s night.
With barest whisper of their wings they pass the brightly wrapped things
Beneath the tree and climb the stairs, to those who in their hearts know errs.

They shush and quiet worldly fear, fill souls with grace to last the year.
Onto the next – and next again –
Till all within are without stain.

The angels sing.  The earth is still.
May you be blessed, as is His will.

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Santa’s Calling

In a sleigh full of eggnog, a fortnight ago,
Sat an unsuited Santa, without a ‘Ho Ho’.
It was two weeks till Christmas – he was dreading the trip –
The thought made him nauseous and made his bowels drip.

His anxiety had built bit by tiniest bit
Through the past several months and by now was a fit.
For he knew what would greet him at the end of that day
When the reindeer were ready and the elves packed the sleigh.

It would be just like last year – he had no hopes for better –
For proof he had only to turn to the letters
Stacked not nearly so high as in centuries past,
Even counting the email that had come in a blast.

No, there was not even hope if he opened a few,
His sad eyes had read for a moment or two
Of the greedy, ungrateful demands held within,
And he wiped a small tear from the tip of his chin.

Well, at least some had written, he thought with a shrug,
For it had been many years since he’d found on a rug
A tiny wee child of just seven or eight
Who had snuck back downstairs and stayed up very late.

To catch just a glimpse of a wondrous sight –
A big bellied Santa by Christmas tree light.
The memory brought a smile to his old withered face
But it faded as quickly as a snowflake of lace.

For the truth now was not one of laughter or light.
Indeed, it was often of darkness or spite.
For children today thought they knew all, and now
He often saw worry on each little brow.

And Santa, he thought that perhaps it was sad
That each little girl or boy’s Mummy or Dad
Could google an answer to questions of love
Or of mercy and hope and of what’s up above.

He didn’t think children now learned much of magic
Or of stories of wonder – the results were quite tragic.
The number of believers was dwindling so…
His heart burst with longing for so long ago.

When Christmas lists were of just one line or two
And children knew true joy and real magic, too.
And the tale of the first Christmas day in the barn –
That it wasn’t just some old man’s rambling yarn,

But the truth of a baby who just with his birth
Brought joy to all children all over the earth.

And so Santa sat in his sleigh in the snow
And watched o’er his flock of wild reindeer below.
Then he lifted his head and he gazed at the Star
And it seemed just so very impossibly far.

But the Voice spoke to him, as it had always before.
And he got to his feet and decided once more
To be there for each little wee spirit of grace,
For that tiny small child with a smile on her face.

 For if he didn’t work to keep Christmastime true
Just who could he count on – could it be you?

Red Plastic Skis of Doom

The yard stretched out before me, a barren wasteland of snow and ice. Shadows were gathering in the late afternoon gloaming beneath low grey clouds laden with snow. Tears freezing on my cheeks, I let out another wail.

“Mummy!”

No good. I could see the flickering of the TV in the living room and knew that Daddy was watching Buck Rogers from his yellow recliner. I couldn’t see her, but figured that Mummy must be upstairs with the baby. They were all warm and dry inside and couldn’t hear me. Continue reading “Red Plastic Skis of Doom”

February

The snow is sparkling on the ground
The world is hushed, true peace is found
The shovels still, the plows all parked
And here I feel my heart is marked
For grandeur, greatness, joy and light
And wonders still – tonight’s the night

For all lies still, the world lays waiting
And under stars are fairies skating
Cross the ponds, the ice and snow
Drift and swirl and catch moon glow

A gift, a tease, to those who see
And yet I think – is it just me
Who longs for sights of things unworldly?
Or is this just my heart strings, girly
Soft and weak and thus despised
By those with wiser, harder eyes?

But snow makes clean the world awhile
And dreamers dream and wish and smile
And so I think its winter’s way
To teach us – all must have its day
The sun will burn and stars will shine
And in my heart is darkness, mine
But also love and light unmarred
Just like the hills, all snowy starred