It rained when it should have snowed.
When we went to gather holly
the ditches were swimming, we were wet
to the knees, our hands were all jags
and water ran up our sleeves.
There should have been berries
but the sprigs we brought into the house
gleamed like smashed bottle-glass.
Now here I am, in a room that is decked
with the red-berried, waxy-leafed stuff,
and I almost forgot what it's like
to be wet to the skin or longing for snow.
I reach for a book like a doubter
and want it to flare round my hand,
a black letter bush, a glittering shield-wall,
cutting as holly and ice.
---”Holly”, from "Station Island" by Seamus Heaney.
(h/t to Lance Mannion, who has been posting these evocative Heaney poems...)
No matter your place, time, or creed, I hope you are enjoying a time of peace for you and yours.
I wish I could have said it as well as Charlie Pierce, but I can't, so I'll just add his Christmas wish to take me out:
"...may you all have the rest and peace of this mid-winter holiday season. May all your whiskey be mellow and may all your lights shine. And may there always be a candle in the window, calling you home, calling you out of the storm, calling all of us home, together, and home."