The fields and lonely streets
are covered in crackle frost.
Red berries hang low
on the holly tree
and a beautiful orange glaze graces
the morning sky.
My Christmas cakes are ready
and later today
I'll fill the house with the scents
of mixed spices, again.
In those cakes
lie a banquet of memories
from the heart of
Christmases past,
those yet to come.
The babies born this year,
beaming smiles and fat dimpled little fingers
that bring such joy.
Christmas.
A red poinsettia in the window.
Twinkle lights on every tree
the lighting of the red candle
at dusk every night.
Jesus.
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Pretty misty stars