For 5 years after “Gifts of the Magi” (see MY POEMS OF CHRISTMAS #16), I wrote no Christmas poems. But in the 6th year, after news of several deaths crowded our holiday season, this sonnet came to me....
EVER-CIRCLING YEARS
Our noisy table brood has slipped away,
This roof, its rules and rituals outgrown. . . .
Yet we still light the wreath that waits the Day,
Content to celebrate as two alone.
As Advent marks the end of every year,
So lately it has brought a final word
About dear friends who’ve quit their journey here,
Whose “Merry Christmas!” won’t again be heard.
Despair makes hope and peace seem overdue
Within this weary world, so worry-worn.
But Advent shines its starlight ever new
And welcomes love divine to be reborn.
Grace greets our griefs with Advent’s sacred call.
The wreath’s four candles? We’ll ignite them all!
— David L. Hatton, 12/11/2015
(this is in Poems Between Here and Beyond —
for purchasing it, go to My Books 4 Sale)
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