Christmas Symbols

November casts its leaves and days away. The calendar’s last, best, page remains… December. And our losses and our gains Are summed across a sky of frigid grey (Forgiving sins from some far August day), Our slate scrubbed clear. The month now wanes; And yet behind December’s sleeted panes There crackles warmth: an ancient mystery play. Its symbols are the holly and the scented pine. Humility, not vanity, at end-of-year, And peace to our trespassers and our friends. The English mistletoe—the gift of yours and mine— And carols that poor sinners, like ourselves, most hear… Then, manger-ward, a band of seers wends.