Advent, a time of hope. A time of continuous, unspoken
dialogue that encircles the world and its people. That
takes in all that makes up a world and offers up its safety
to Love. Dandelion to desert grass.
DECEMBER HOPE
Well, this isn’t very pretty.
Here I am, standing
In a wet field,
Watching for angels
With long golden trumpets
Blowing hard as they can
To send a curl of music
Down to earth.
When the only thing
I can hear is the cold wind
Blowing straight
From the North Pole.
So cold,
It turned water
In the ancient cattle trough
To ice.
No hope there then.
Until it lifted the darkness,
No rain now, no snow.
No angels with long gold trumpets, either.
Only stars.
Shining.
©2025 GWEN GRANT
Brilliant stories in this lovely book, including my ‘BROWN BABY’
Read them all.
Poems by Gwen Grant 