The cold

It's more wet than cold right now in the UK, but here's a seasonal poem I wrote when it was cold.

The cold

it bites

with its teeth so sharp.

Nights are long and seem forever dark.

Still this time of year is a time like no other

For once, in this season, all men are like brothers.

The leaves have long fallen, golden browns now icy white.

When the snow hits the ground, it's a beautiful sight.

Jack Frost is here. He’s made his presence known

In the gardens, on our hands and as we are driving on the roads.

We sing loud our hallelujahs and our ho-ho-hos

Singing songs of Jesus

And of Rudolph's shiny nose.

The spices of cinnamon and good old nutmeg,

Are the festive aromas that tell our heads

That the time is coming to tell the story once more

For those who haven’t heard it and for those who've heard it all before.

The message of hope still remains, despite the cold and darkness

For there is a light, that forever shines

To direct us and to guide us.

The bells they jingle, all the day

And remind me of what the angels say

“Peace on earth and good-will to all men”

Is a message for now as much as then.

As families unite, war still rages on

And we can’t bring back the lost daughter and the lost son

So let us draw close to the ones we still have

And hold them and tell them of our tidings glad.

Long ago a child was born.

The reason for this season

The reason keeps me warm and gives me a hope to believe in.