As Good a Time as Any
The hour I sit to write is still and late,
all traces of the day have echoed on;
some rest, while others short of patience...wait...
and peer at clocks in hopes of swifter dawn.
The gifts beneath our tree some deem as mute
but I hear Siren-whispers nonetheless,
not strong as trumpet blasts or Piper's flute,
but gentle sighs of promised happiness.
Thus while I wait for skies to limn with pink,
for flecks of sunshine gold to gild the snow,
this time is good as any, I should think,
for spending time with good folk here I know.
The lessons learned throughout this year were grim,
but not all days were ashen grey with grief;
I relished time with friends -- a prayer, a hymn,
were gifts that did much more than bring relief.
I watched how deep a love went deeper still;
saw joy shine in my wife's beleaguered eyes,
discovered ways how empty hearts can fill
with truths conveyed by elder hearts most wise.
This time is good as any, I believe,
to celebrate with friends in noble halls,
how good it is that each of you receive,
the weary heart who meekly comes and calls.
...who is slowly adapting to life here
from nearly three decades of life lived
far over ...there.