A mantle of snow shone brightly that night
As it lay on the ground, reflecting moonlight.
Unmindful of flurries and a chilly north breeze.
Sleeping like babes in their soft earthen furrows.
Causing chairs to fall over and dishes to break.
Then raced to the river where they usually meet.
As they shivered in night clothes, some bare-armed, some robed.
They all spoke at once as they stood by the river.
But a shining gold light in the shape of a sphere.
It blinked and it twinkled, it winked like an eye,
There emerged from the crowd, with a swish and a rustle,
Resplendent in green with a flowing white mane.
Smelling of meadows and flowers abloom,
Made each of the fey folk think of the spring
in a voice that at once was both wild and tamed,
that Yule is the time of re-birth, and yet…”
The air isn’t filled with rich fragrant smells
Of baking and roasting, and simmering stews,
Of cider that’s mulled or other hot brews.”
Or houses lit up by candles’ glow.
Have you forgotten, my children, the fun
Of celebrating the rebirth of the sun?”
As they shuffled their feet and stared at the ground.
Then she smiled the smile that brings light to the day,
“Come, my children,” she said, “Let’s play.”
Threw off the drab and drew on the jolly.
They brought out the bells and clapped when they rang.
In colors of cranberry, bayberry, cherry.
Then surrounded them with snow birds, and snow cats and bats.
Before they went homeward to seek out their rest,
And welcomed the sun ‘neath the tree’s finery.
The gold light returned like an arrow-shot flame.
The golden-like sphere turned into a star.
“Happy Yuletide, my children,”