snowflake Advent

hard white world all
is frozen, frost coats
the trees and grass, the
hedges, houses, sky
yet birds still fly
in the bitter air

it is cold in here, air
temperature has dropped
like a stone, the Advent
of our Lord has come
with a whisper and a
hard grip - here in the

North so far removed
from the sand, the golden
hills, I think of him,
his path, his feet, his
life and all he strove for
against power and oppression -
I admire him:
impossible pattern
unique as a snowflake
as a pattern of ice in a frozen pond

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