wisps of cotton white in
slow float through the cherry red
dogwood, sparkle
in the sunlight
that cracks this gray sky
the vanguard of inches
to come, long night’s sleep,
bright white ski hill climb, and the dark
twist of ice exposed river muscle.
we brought the tree down off the hillside
to the caroling of the chickadees
and the mutterings of the nuthatches
and heard in the rise of the wind
out of the valley
the river song and
the voices of all those
that have sung this hymn with us
when we’ve gone to get the tree.
as the last chord is strung and we
turn onto the road north and home
the melody of Christmas scent
to come and those past
a stickiness on our hands
the reminder that the voices
in the branches’ redolence
is your song “…of joy and peace.”
Hyvaa joulua Onnellista uutta vuotta
Keep a tight line,
Steve Therrien
