Birthday

BIRTHDAY 

Under the moon of the fairy night

When the days are short 

And the stars are bright,

On a puff of air and a sea of red

They rend the veil

From the Land of Dead.

Before, behind, betwixt, between,

In the nether world,

They bloom unseen --

A ghost, a thought, a root, a stem,

A silent bud,

An unsung hymn.

Shake off the veil and beat the drums!

Let cymbals play, 

For angels come!

Advent

ADVENT


It's a season of waiting, as we do tonight
when the forecasters herald a coming storm.
All day long, a  warning crawls across the screen,
"Prepare, prepare!"

This morning, we started putting things in order.

We've grocered and moved the cars
to the top of the hill.
We even replaced the old shovel
with a more ergonomic model.
Soup is bubbling on the stove,
and candles are on the counter,
ready in case the trees bow down
and break the lines that light the dark.

Of course, the power of this night, really,
is in the promise of things to come;
A perfect storm started far away
and is blanketing the world already.

Meanwhile we've wrapped ourselves
in purple robes while we wait
for the coming force in the snug little house
that we've tried to put in order.