A Winter Christmas Card Poem by Sandra Fowler
A Winter Christmas Card
I met you in a winter Christmas card.
The wind played carols through the evergreens.
Snow fell like angel birds on old tin roofs.
The mood was appalachian to the soul.
Time painted us a picture of ourselves.
The gray landscape was bathed in candlelight
From sun almost too threadbare to exist,
And yet we thanked the faint warmth for its gift.
Home shone for us across a vast white field.
The way was long but we both made it, Friend.
A single frost star captured by the glass
Dispelled the dark and made the music last.
A meeting in a Christmas card, a threadbare sun, with a frost star sum the greatness of your poetry. STUNNING. Love, Susie xxx
A single frost star captured by the glass Dispelled the dark and made the music last...................as when winter christmas wishes love and care that redeems the heart, , yet it flows gently with genial glows,10+, thanks for sharing
A very warm poem with perfect winter imagery...a beautiful write Sandra.
Its an excellent poem on winter.Certainly, you are the best poet I have ever known.
A truly beautiful Christmas card, in your inimitable and unmistakeable style, truly soothing to the soul. Thanks, Patrick
A beautiful painting of Winter snow, presenting a very vivid picture in my mind. Thanks for your lovely words. Kate
There's nothing left to be said Sandra, except that your poetry gives me a sense of peace. Thank you so much Sandra for the exquisite beauty. Melvina
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/7/2025 1:09:12 PM # 1.0.0
A truly beautiful portrait of the turning of the year. Prayers for all the souls who met you thus - but I think your poem is a tribute to a special friend of your verse. Such friendships may endure, and be passed on, each enriching the next. So it is with you, Sandra. This lovely poem evokes the dying of the light - the very point from which new hope is born. The shadows grow very long, this time of year. Though the winds are cold, they do sing carols. From such music, new music may be born. - Will