Posted November 28, 2014 in Advent and Christmas:
Soon Christmas

by Catherine de Vinck.

Autumn’s gold spent
the trees bare, iron branches
studded with crows.
What is real?
the apple on the table,
the rain rapping the window
with wet knuckles,
the otherness of others,
each and all locked
in their own story
their own dreams?
No need for speech,
no reason for coming
or going: Why travel
when here and there
become everywhere,
when space upon space
open their bright corollas.
Soon winter,
snow furring the land.
Soon Christmas: candles lit
for the Child radiant
under a crown of stars.


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