windowsills, trees, and rooftops. Tiny white lights blinking through bare tree
branches shaking in the wind.
reds, greens, silver and gold, the colors that add warmth to this winter
season. Outside everything had closed up, inside everything had opened up,
wherever a warm light welcomed.
the dark night air, legends of woodland spirits living in evergreens seem to
grow more real the longer one stays outside and listens to the whispering
sounds of the forest.
with bright red berries hangs above one doorway. Over another hangs three
gilded balls, while pine leaves rest atop a third.
through thin branches at another house, the shadow of a strange old woman
stoops over a bedpost beside a window where a child lies resting contentedly .
. . La Befana? . . . babouschka? . . . Searching for the Christ Child?
gust of wind from behind, the pages turn.
shadows move away from a different house, one carrying a sack, another, a rod,
and leaving a small trail of hay behind them.
closely, the tiny white specks on top of the hay do not melt. At the touch of
one, they feel solid and warm . . . sugar!
that mean the children of the house would now find nuts and candy stuffed
inside their shoes that morning?
gust of wind, the pages turn again.
shadows surround a huge trunk of a tree, richly decorated with brightly colored
ribbons, greenery, and paper flowers.
that a carol of Yuletide blessings echoing throughout the night air?
candles stand on the tips of tree branches, lighting a new path into the forest
where at the end, a small graveyard flickers brightly with its own candles on
top of tombstones.
animals of the forest, perched on high branches and appearing to whisper among
themselves, peek through pine trees at a large wide window through which a
Christmas tree stands majestically, making its presences known, twinkling with
baubles, blown-glass crystal bulbs, sparkling tinsel left behind from spiders
suddenly scurrying up the wooden walls, and colorful ribbons spiraling across
skin tingles as I raise my eyes.
I now find elves hiding in an attic?
St. Nicholas, the Yule Log, the Christmas tree,
what will be next?
stunningly crowned figures suddenly appear silhouetted above a mountaintop.
are they coming from? Who do they seek?
magic still swirls within the night air.
in a manger will be waiting, expectantly.
if I follow, I could see what they are about to see.
Alle Rechte an diesem Beitrag liegen beim Autoren. Der Beitrag wurde auf e-Stories.org vom Autor eingeschickt Elizabeth Young. Veröffentlicht auf e-Stories.org am 04.01.2010.