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POETRY
Cold Moon
Rejoicing in pink with the Big Day less than two weeks away
it’s 70 degrees and humid:
some years it’s sweaters
some years it’s Tshirts
but either way, it’s Christmas all the same
The leaves on the ground,
damp with the season,
perfume the air and waft a December scent
in the wind
and there
through clearing clouds
the cold moon gleams a happy eye
upon us in the church parking lot
elevating our hearts toward Bethlehem
regardless of what outfits the weather might prescribe
where a baby wrapped in swaddling
might have been warm enough
beneath the shouts of angels on that joyful night
We are having a warmish December, but it still feels like December! Who says you have to have snow or even cold weather at Christmas, anyway? Hallmark, Hollywood? I’m pretty sure that in the end it isn’t the weather that matters.
Readers, thank you!
