I first posted this poem in April of this year but I thought maybe some would like to read it again.
Snow, drifting lazily down To shroud the Highlands Glens, and Towns A whiten mantle For the ground An Ermine cloak To drape the Pines The train to Lay upon the Heather And through it's Folds the Thistles peek As Martens dart In Hide and Seek
And in the Homes The Logs burn bright As sparks rise up In Chaotic flight. Outside the chill Air greets the Night And clouds drift slowly 'cross the Moon To hide its' face From all below. And in the space Between each cloud A myriad of tiny lights The Stars shine through To light this Yuletide Night.
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