the frost crackles
as I cross the lawn
finding a midnight space
in a midnight sky
clear of clouds
and moonbows
to watch
the Geminid meteor
blanch the atmosphere
with strips of light
and mark the season
in this traditional way
for light always was the first
to call us to the way
starlight from beyond
brought us then
as it does now
to the moment
of new beginnings
where history turns
on the sound of a child
and all creation
caked in hoar-frost
and waiting halleluiahs
bows silently once more
as light curves overhead
and leads towards
birth
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