The Wind Brings Down Its Icy Load

The wind brings down its icy load;
Curtains close across the sky.
Travelers shudder on the road:
There will be shelter by-and-by.
All one has seen and one has sown
Now feeds the feasts of fantasy.
Merriment goes on within;
Trees and candles dance with light.
Without, the world is grey and grim;
Within the house, all is bright.
How might one stand against the wind
But with the joy one brings to it?
The window hints of happiness;
The wanderer walks quickly past.
The week-old ice is treacherous;
The snow is falling thick and fast.
Shelter cannot be a place
For those whose spirits will not rest.
Bells ring through the chilly air;
People purchase gifts on time.
Windows, doorways, front yards bear
Of inner truth the outward sign:
Love beneath commercial cheer;
Loneliness decked out in din.
The season freezes all but love;
Winter grips the waterways.
Upon white meadows nothing moves;
Life sleeps through the nights and days.
O love! At once both flame and fuel,
Light well what meets the inner gaze!
Suppose There Were No Special Times for Greetings
Suppose there were no special times for greetings,
Each day equally a holy day.
All things are holy just because of being
Shards of Being, lightning wrapped in clay.
One might then be merry all the time,
Needing no occasion for good cheer,
Seeing in each moment the sublime,
God born in every child throughout the year.
Reasoning thus, one need not leave bereft
Each everyday not specialized for joy.
Eden is a place we never left,
Though smoke and smog our view of it destroy.
In paradise all time is time for glory,
Nor do the angels choose one sacred story.
God is in all things with grace to be,
Shining in all seasons equally.
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So May You Be Happy at This Time

So may you be happy at this time,
Even as the sun turns back again,
A simple fact, a symbol, and a sign
Some would find but little meaning in.
Out of what we see we make ourselves,
Needing to be taught that ancient art.
Souls born when the woods were full of elves
Give lessons in the shaping of the heart.
Reason now supplies an explanation
Equal to the workings of the will,
Exact in each elliptical equation
That would all cant and superstition still.
In numbers, though, there is great mystery,
Nor is what we measure what we see,
Giving space for poetry and dance,
Song and celebration, choice and chance.
So Shall All This Pillow Talk
So shall all this pillow talk
End in gifts and preparations,
As all other topics balk,
Suddenly on quarter rations.
Old memories now come a-haunting,
New revived by repetition,
Summoned by a wistful wanting,
Given one's unwilled condition.
Render, then, the season's song,
Embracing both the work and play
Equally, as both belong
To cherishing the holiday.
In love and weary duty go,
Needing tokens to bestow,
Graced with many loved ones who
Shall soon bestow their gifts on you.
When You Read This, We'll Be Wed
When you read this, we'll be wed,
A married couple wishing you
A Merry Christmas, New Year's too,
And happiness in days ahead.
May we all be joined in love,
And share the joys with which we're blessed,
Bear with charm and grace the rest,
And to all good neighbors prove.
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More than Ever Now I Want You with Me

More than Ever Now I Want You with Me
More than ever now I want you with me.
Each day lays waste the day that came before.
Remembering the home that your heart gives me
Restores the peace that, lost, torments me more.
Yet we must be apart this day of joy,
Close in spirit, far apart in flesh,
Happy in a hope time can't destroy
Replenished by a sorrow ever fresh.
In us there is a glory from afar
So precious no brief moment of despair
That rises up can match that eastern star,
Miracle it is our gift to share.
As all our joy is cause for all our pain,
So when I'm home all will be joy again.
Morning Never Comes on Christmas Day
Morning never comes on Christmas Day!
Eons pass and still the sun won't rise!
Running late, the parents check closed eyes,
Retrieving gifts they long had hid away.
Years pass too quickly; loves and friendships stray.
Christmas comes and goes; the magic dies.
Happiness is hard and elsewhere lies.
Reality erodes one's sense of play.
Innocence remains a memory,
Sustaining hope and faith in later years,
The gift of what the child once believed.
Morning comes, of course, eventually,
As dreams give way to deep and unshed tears,
Still waiting for a glory long since grieved.
Mothers Mean Much More on Christmas Day
Mothers mean much more on Christmas day,
Even though they're loved the whole year round.
Rich memories lie knee-deep on the ground,
Recalling years when gifts unopened lay,
Years of Christmases near wild with play,
Christmases of dreams unwrapped and crowned,
Happiness with wings and joy unbound,
Reveling in myths time would betray.
In you there lies the spirit of pure giving,
Sweetness that finds pleasure in my smile,
The gift I can reopen every year.
More than my own, I find your heart forgiving,
A home where I am welcome all the while,
So I can rest assured, for you are near.
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I'm Sorry I Can't Tell You What

I'm sorry I can't tell you what
I'm sure you'd rather hear,
But there's a burden in my heart
I can no longer bear.
There's an anger I must cross
Before I come to you
And make my peace with who you are,
And try your soul anew.
I know I wasn't what you wanted
When you wanted me,
A healthy, happy baby girl
You could raise easily.
I was born impaired, and you
Have never understood
That what I am is whole and fair
And beautiful and good.
You were sorry, first for me
And then for you, and wept,
But I would not be me without
The fact that I am deaf.
I am a gift to celebrate
And not a cause to grieve.
As a child this was what
I needed to believe.
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When you're not

When you're not

When not're, if you're not a day,
My voice, without a voice, you will be called without pause.
When not, if I am not a day,
You listen to my voice in a rumor that passes.

When not're, if you're not a day,
I clamaré by your grace in all grace.
When not, if I am not a day,
Move my profile the cold Moon
in the curtains in your window.

When not're, if you're not a day,
I just oiré the words in your Word.
When not, if it is that an I'm not a day,
You'll see my shadow between the cold shadow
next to the head of your bed.

When not're, if you're not a day,
There will be a tear in each verse my.
When not, if I am not a day,
I feel under the cold afternoon
reach you at the sound of the bells.

When not're, if you're not a day,
you seek on Earth, air, water.
When not, if I am not a day
you listen to my step between the cold shadow
following the steps around the House.

When not're, if you're not a day,
You inventaré in the smoke and flame.
When not, if I am not a day,
surprise the cold morning
my hand in your head hair.

When not're, if you're not a day,
invoke you in the dream my hope.
When not, if I am not a day,
I will go into the cold night in your sleep
When the dream you cover with its waters.

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