Around cribs flame thoughts gain brightness.
Their glow fuelled in reminiscence and recall
of December’s curious contrast, her kindness
in spite of sleet and snow, storm and squall.
Such inclemency, mirrored in behaviour,
is overcome in what good will remains
and the birth of a child some call saviour.
For others their children bring similar gains.
But either or both, if your heart’s invested
generosity of spirit is fair consequence.
Where faith is strong truth can’t be contested
by voices debating all innocence
captured in youngsters, wondering and waiting
‘neath elfish eyes that would spill the beans.
All actions noted, imaginations salivating
at the promise of magic.The demands of teens,
now wholly involved in our festive charade.
Children, but a childish layer they’ve shed
and in that one might pause, even feel sad.
But no, our master stroke is soon to be played.
Long lists, long gone in longing looks at fires,
the smoke the dream deliverer as bed beckons.
Tomorrow rarely so excites or youth inspires
in its tick to morning, the ecstasy of seconds.
Prepared we look in, sleep has them sound.
I envy their calm, but there is not the will,
or need to complain. Cool wrapped the ground,
for footsteps roof high I listen still.