Season
of Fir and Pine
arrives from primeval forest and druidic grove
dressing all in festive array.
Balls and baubles dance on trees
singing with stars in
darkest night;
boughs bend and drape,
perfuming the air
with spicy pine
in deepest winter
and hold mantle and
door
in such tender caress of green delight
that I marvel at how we, too, are held,
breathed into life flowing
from that ever-greening Center.
Barbra
Ryland 2016
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