EVENING GROSBEAK

Thunder rumbles,

Nature grumbles,

Evening Grosbeak comes to rest.

Danger brewing,

Floods ensuing,

Evening Grosbeak puffs his breast.

Marie Elena

 Photo by Keith R. Good

ACCEPTING CHRISTMAS LOVE IN A GATHERING OF HEARTS

                                        A
                                    <       >
                                      V V
                                        A
                                     week
                                   remains.
                               All the prep-
                               arations are
                          nearly completed.
                      The house is clean and
                   dressed up. Boughs of green-
                        ery hang in sweeping
                   arcs, bringing symmetry to a
              celebration well planned. Every boy,
           girl woman and man, join hands in bowed
                 prayer for a day molded on peace
             and love; above all else, the birth of a
        child brought to the world to sacrifice in order
              to make a nice life rife with meaning.
              And taking time to share in that spirit,
          aside from the hustle and bustle of hurried
        desperation seems to get lost in the shuffle.
     But, when evening comes to call and all will gather
  in heart, near hearth or around the tree, a communion
                                     of love lights
                                     every happy
                                     face brightly.


Walt

THE GIFT

                                                                    Silent                                                                                        

                                                                  and still,

                                                                 the way a

                                                                night like this

                                                               should be. All have

                                                            retired, they surely look-

                                                            ed tired and worn. They’ll

                                                           be better in the morning, they

                                                        have earned their rest.   They did

                                                            their best. I’d be resting too, but

                                                                it’s just that I’ve still too much to do.

                                                 There’s   that list; a new quick check for updates,

                                                reprieves from me in a stretch.   A call to the stable,

          assuring                           this latest chapter of the fable goes off without a hitch.

       The        suit                        is pressed. The boots shine next to the white fur, setting

     the    brig       ht                     crimson ablaze; a staple for the Holidays. Am I crazy, or has

      De   cember   co                 me more rapid than eagles? It feels like it to me. Time flies

      wh   en I’m hav ing     fun.        I scan under the tree with a twinkled eye, spying the

   presents displayed. Every          brightly wrapped package becomes the best prize, never

    taking away from the next, at        best joining each box in wonder and richness. But,

   there is one gift that draws my attention. Did I ever mention my total love of Christmas?  It

     is in that spirit that I take up this Gift so incons       picuous, yet so utterly necessary   for

     this day. For in my hands, I hold perfection. At    closer inspection, I am certain. No giftof 

Christmas was ever so right; so accepted. So loved.   Remembering the verse, “…and the
greatest of these, is Love”, my heart swells, a telling    sign that Christmas lives within me.
 This                            Gift      so needed, fills my hands with its girth, and makes my heart
    wor                        thy                through all that it espouses. It houses purity, and sanct-
         ity.                It                       represents love. The Truest of All Love. And so it is
             with      this                   First Gift of Christmas.              I bow my head; a silent
                 prayer                         prepares me for my jour           ney. “God so       loved
              the       wor                      ld that he gave his only            son…”              and
          I ret             urn           The Babe to His manger, the love of Christmas fills me. I raise
       from                     my      knee, coming to stand near the tree. I am Santa Claus, chosen to be an icon of the season. I am humbled to receive “The Gift” I represent Who gives it a reason.          Walking in silence and reverent thought, to a waiting sleigh and a day of love.

Walt

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

Christmas lights.
Blinking, twinkling.
Red, yellow, blue.
Green and white; burns all night, bright.
Beacons of light in a mid-December snowfall.
Offering a brilliance not seen since early fall.
Silent, accenting vignettes of serenity.
A Christmas amenity:
strung and hung,
eclectic and electric.
Blinking, twinkling.
Red, yellow, blue.
Green and white, burns all night. Bright
Christmas lights.



Walt