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.
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