A bitter night,
With Christmas around the corner.
Snow, freezing as it was falling,
Hiding the paths
Through this unfamiliar wood.
Yet, touching the dead ferns
Curling in on themselves.
Catching the holly
Shining darkly through the snow,
I open my arms
To these unknown trees glittering
With starlight and splintered rainbows.
I long for my own home wood,
Where paths are beaten
Into fallen leaves and shadows.
Yet this place of tall trees,
Of wide spaces,
Of lost and scary paths covered in snow,
Hiding lost and scary creatures,
Has found a place in my heart.
For these are things of the earth
And their loveliness enchants me.
© 2020 Gwen Grant