The Scent of Cinnamon

As golden light from windows glow,
Warm noses press against a pane
To see the trees all laced with snow
And frilled with ice, too cold for rain.

Sweet spices from the mince pies beckon,
Candles glow with cinnamon scents.
Thinking of loved-ones across the ocean,
Now that’s what Christmas represents.

Neighbours standing at the door
Wrapped in scarves and singing psalms.
Mistletoe held aloft with laughter
With hugs of joy and open arms.

Warm flames burning in the grate,
Stockings hanging from its shelf.
Family hugs as games are played
With fairy, reindeer and Christmas elf.

Children sleeping at long last
With snowman keeping guard outside.
Wishing all a Happy Christmas,
The merry friends and neighbours cried.

Angela Barton

A little light-hearted poem to wish you all a Happy Christmas!

White Silence

Clothed in winter whites,
The garden sleeps beneath
The pale under-belly of the
Snow-laden clouds.
Curled, crinkled leaves freckle the ground
As shadows from the skeletal canopies
Criss-cross the lawn.
Colourless,
But for one dichotomous ruby rose
Lolling rudely by the five bar gate,
And gloating at the tepid hues.
White silence in the garden,
Although tiny prints betray the mystery
Of a bird’s dawn visit.
Its footsteps in the snow, disappearing
On the ice-polished pond.
And still the snowman keeps guard,
As soft, slow, silent snow falls,
Frilling grass and lacing trees.
The hedgehog stays furled and warm
Beneath the hawthorn’s rotting leaves,
Whilst a bird sits sulking on a frost-fringed fence.
Sombre trees stretch skyward,
Entreating the reluctant rays for some warmth
From behind the steel-grey clouds.
And underfoot, iced diamonds glint,
A constellation of a million tiny twinkles
Wrap the garden in festive trimmings,
To be unwrapped by the coming thaw.