When flick’ring candles brighten window panes,
Framed with silver, icy Christmas lace,
And golden, liquid light on candy canes,
Beams forth, reflected on each tiny face.
Small children peer through windows rimed with cold,
And seek the ancient visitor in red;
A jolly elf as young as Spring, yet old
And wise enough to wait till they’re in bed.
Outside, cold winds deposit snow in drifts,
As moonlight cruises, swift across the scene.
Inside the house, small children dream of gifts,
Reflecting lights, red, yellow, blue, and green.
Their hearts call forth, make magic come and go,
Silent shadows upon the fallen snow.
Mick McKellar
December 2015
The legend lives on—in my mind, at least…
Mick
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