Winter-gift

The candle burns, and the days turn. Aye, and the year the same. But turn is turning, and that is but the way of all worlds, and what is lost may come again. As Winter-Fest comes - as Kindle.
And thus it is.
These words are old and older - ten years of melted wax in the land called Real. But mayhap they stand another waking. Of a morn long past, a Winter-Fest long gone, I was on wing. And a thing I saw...



WINTER-GIFT

I'm told they call me Gifted
And many Foe I've slain
And heard of glasses lifted
To toast my Foolish fame
But I woke late last waking
And saw ye wake as well
To watch the new dawn breaking
In Fest of Winter's spell
And out I saw ye walking
Fresh snow to mark thy path
And in thine eye I saw them
The seeds thy Spring would cast
And in thy cot behind thee
I heard another wake
And merry was the gurgle
That happy babe did make
Then from thy path of walking
A moment stepped aside
And mistletoe ye bore ye
To she who was inside
And to me it was wonder
That snow stayed by thy cot
For from it sprang a fire
My breath had never got
And all that fire was heart-born
And all that fire was joy
And WinterFest
Was all of best
And thy cot best of all

I'm told they call me Gifted
And many years my score
And Foe I'll rend in Blighted land
Mayhap a hundred more
But let me wake Fest morning
And see thee wake the same
Then I will call me Gifted
And worthy of the name.


May Kindle be with ye when it comes, aye and those near to thee and dear. And for the Land called Real? Geseënde Kersfees, Blunya na wo, Eid Milad Majid, Frohe Weihnachten, Sheng Dan Kuai Le, Glædelig Jul, Mele Kalikimaka, Selamat Natal, Nollaig Shona Dhuit, Chag Molad Sameach, Il-Milied it-Tajjeb, Nizhonigo Keshmish, Wesołych Świąt, Crăciun Fericit, Nadolig Llawen, oDwI'ma' qoS yItIvqu', Alassë a Hristomerendë - whatever words best fit thy lips, may they pass those lips often, and from thy heart to the heart of another.