Christmas Eve

 

Christmas Eve dawns

tiny birds peck for fuel

beneath the frosted window

3° F, even the air is frozen

lacey white hoar

labored all night

dancing abstractly

on the pane

now lit by the morning’s star

could not recreate it

if I tried

it’s Gaia’s turn

to astound us –

once again.

How does She DO it?!

 

Merry, Merry

and Blessed Be.