Braised by the sparkle of snow on the ground.
Drawn by a tapered moon.
Chilled by the air you rise to hound
then startled by the crumpled tune.
Mist floating heavy with sweat on the banks.
Damp to the open mouth.
Ice crusting over to give it's thanks
with winds giving way to the south.
Black oily skies in overcast clouds
dampening the moonlight to dim.
Crescendos of light forming covenant shrouds
with joy giving way to a hymn.
White crested branches of snow covered trees.
Praying for flakes that still fall.
Hoping there's still, some in the breeze
who'll make it to ground in a squall.
Spells in the wind are telling their stories.
Hoping you'll feel Christmas Magic.
For those who will listen to all their glories,
or wouldn't; would that be tragic!