Merry Yuletide

We stand at the dark of the year.
Underfoot, the cold, black earth,
Above, the interlaced fingers of skeletal trees.
All is silent.
The sky behind the branches slowly lightens,
And in the east
The new year is born in a great splash
Of orange, yellow and red.
The valley basin fills with milky mist,
And a tree of crows, dark bird of winter
Caws in the day.
The globe of the sun rises in triumph
Out of the longest night
And the Child of Promise returns.



Image Echo Chernik http://www.echo-x.com