Christmas Eve

Dear friends, I wish you blessings of the season. K

Christmas Eve

A whirling galaxy of starlings
at sunset on Christmas Eve.

Star – lings (a bright and shining name for such a dark and dusky bird)

A murmurration of stars
sweeping the darkling night,
making a moving path
for the Milky Way.

Check this video out — amazing starlings murmuration (full HD) -www.keepturningleft.co.uk http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eakKfY5aHmY&feature=share via @youtube

liturgy of lessons and carols

Dec snow 2013

I heard the bells
chiming in the cold north breeze
wind chimes sound the carol
on this Christmas Eve day.
***
Let heaven and nature sing –
tiny finches twitter in the evergreen boughs
of fragrant cedar,
rejoicing on this Christmas Eve day.
***
O little town,
streets wet with rain,
reflections of hope and dreams
on this Christmas Eve day.
***
In the bleak midwinter,
skies hard with sleet
gray on gray on gray
on Christmas Eve day.
***
The holly and the ivy
caught up in the old hickory tree,
evergreen and ever new
on this Christmas Eve day.

Christmas Eve 2014

Dear friends, I wish you blessings of the season and a peaceful and joy-filled 2015. K

Christmas Eve

A whirling galaxy of starlings
at sunset on Christmas Eve.

Star – lings (a bright and shining name for such a dark and dusky bird)

A murmurration of stars
sweeping the darkening night,
making a moving path
for the Milky Way.

— Christmas Eve 2014- This is a poem posted last year with the youtube video of a murmuration of starlings set to music.

Check this video out — amazing starlings murmuration (full HD) -www.keepturningleft.co.uk http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eakKfY5aHmY&feature=share via @youtube

I saw three ships

I saw three ships

in the short afternoon light of Christmas Eve,
I walk to the shore carrying stale bread
to break with my fellow creatures

stirring in the dry winter grass,
sounds of the north winds greeting
while snow, still white in the hidden places of the wood,
is hushed and etched with tracks of rabbit and fox

three tiny ducks paddle across the cove
to share in the rite of our communion-
shyly accepting that which is freely given

brushing the crumbs from my gloves,
I watch the three feathered bodies
sail away
into the twilight of Christmas Eve
then turning to the setting sun,
I take the path back home