Whilst I accept that Christmas may be the dominant theme of this poem there are sufficient references to both humanity and ice and its effects to justify its submission in my humble opinion.
Season of dream haze and arctic signpost. Chill and chap brood whose scattered offspring plummet thermal values as welcome mat for “whiskered” chimney guest awash with bounty. Thief of sun filled days without a twinge but those universal late December days rendezvous can’t be thrust off-course. Primal raw wind howl dissing summer’s distant memory - spotty and erratic though it was. Deck chair, seat of toil free bliss now cold front recess blob. Mirage or wishful thinking from a wet weather veteran. We live in fear of reruns like Ophelia or 2010’s black ice. Storm Force Brian, Mount Fuji on an airwave shrapnel carrier. Dormant Loch Ness shadow’s fervent air mass plugging festive tunes. To fuel dispatch and chimney sweep alike a sacred windfall. For those who struggle just another inroad on an ever shrinking pocket. Yet this annual curtain closer has its grail and saving grace. Dark art charmer lacing every patch for knee high boot crunch. Architect of igloo closet ski cap. Sleigh ride bell upon that maligned feast around our globe (Noel hark the alpine carol)! Bizarre but only to us frostbite souls aloof from glacial beauty. Deep freeze spirit canvass may not surface. Christmas anthems booming over frolic footfall streets adorned by night owls. Chaser lights that gee up gutted ghost town black spot. Urban ice rink dome another fantasy or wonderland. Toy shop stock n trade whose only trade is stock. Colour coded gadget clutching every cell of window space. Fashion fodder wizards magic spark a toddler’s glee at every turn. Boisterous strains of Santa rousing inner reindeers - the sort beloved by children down the ages. Yuletide decor gift band holly bush spike. Log tossed on fire, kindling stick incendiary, leaping flame enshrouds smokeless polish. Punch bowl nasal spice so aptly named rum do! Skim milk skyline flaunts its snow fleck jewellery aloft. Stars of astral compass spread their twinkle dash on human garlands. Winter’s stepwise edging in a whirl plume of slush. Christmas well and truly has arrived like all December Days.
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