In Snow


Follow a trail 

through all of your Christmases

to the place of reindeer and tinsel


where memories drape from branches,

where baubles gleam family faces

sparkling, laughing, joking.


They're crystallised here

safe in snow


and those presents you gave from the heart

are piled at the tree


still wrapped up in hugs.










Mistle thrush guarding

feast of winter berries, ripe

for Christmas dinners.












A Christmas Carol in Poetry


I don't need a Dickens' ghost to lecture me

on past, present, future.


Don't need reminding of those skinflints

who rob coins from the eyes of corpses;


those Scrooges are dead to begin with.


I need a candle of festive spice, a warm glow

for family and friends.


I need a hat, scarf and gloves

and the Christmas hits of Johnny Mathis.


I need the tree lights to work.










The Christmas Market


We browse with crowds, sip mulled wine

from mugs


in a village of spruce, a wonderland of kiosks

selling stuff we do not need - enough baubles here

to decorate every tree in the world.


Nativity scenes in ten different sizes


with Mary and Joseph's familiar pose.

There are prayers of joy with candy cane edges,

polar bears with plush faces.


There's a Santa Clause for every style; classic, 

modern, cheap and tacky.


They're serving warm mince pies too.