December Eve Gold
Bearing the weight of signs and kindly murk,
no frock on hands, I glory in my work.
O joy of first snow - I beam in the cold,
starved for the feast of December Eve gold.
Of dark dreary nights, balm to dwell inside.
Not so, when the sky unveils a white bride.
Twirling, grinning like a little girl, smiles
fall from nimbostratus clouds a short while.
Simplicity, from God’s trust, delivers,
bright cheeriness and heavenly shivers.
12/1/2020
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