While boughs and tinsels glide on trimmings
along a fireplace by the hall, the lemon-drop scent
of pine thrills : the air is cold; hearts are warm.
December night catches a sliver of merriment
from the grace of its jewelled cheer, as the blend
of white and gold weaves the lane of a city
shimmering with joy.
The stage is set for a baby-in –a- manger,
cuddled in thin wafers of hay, more tender
than lambs’ flesh, more bright than Magi star
bathing moist lilies from which they are grazed.
‘Tis a holyday of gratitude, when remnants
of the past are erased to cleanse trespasses,
in the name of mercy. For now, eve’s candles
slowly baptize the miracle of enlightenment
much richly praised.
Canticle of eternity, karma seeds breathing out
tidings held by acts of giving : hands clasping
loved ones and strangers to embrace the core
of oneness , as if one language whispers
the same chime of peace
bound by a hymn of reawakening.
And all seasons can never duplicate
the benevolence of this fragrant chapter
oiled in tassels of gold , incense and myrrh,
it is just so.
For in the soul of a one-world cheer, this is the only
brink of paradise gleaming as a child bestows Love ,
when Nativity heralds the reign of sacredness
as heaven meets earth,
and earth meets first Noel’s heaven.