Tis The Season Poem by Nicholas Windle

Chilled the winter winds doth blow,
Soon silence reigns supreme.
For all about lays stark and white,
That hides this land of green.

Floret leaves of emerald spears,
Red berries plump and ripe.
Come dusk, that turns to starry skies,
In sharp focus, sparkling bright.

Through half draped curtains, chinks of light,
Invade the cold night air.
There gentle rays on the glistening dust.
Ghost like shadows now appear.

Inside the tots are now tucked up,
Their faces all aglow
For young and old, on Christmas Eve,
Wait for sleigh bells through the snow.

© N Windle 2010