Silent slice of evening,
drawn thick in in season’s sweetest air,
sustained before the hearth and fire,
paused, a moment mounted rare.
Quiet Christmas carols ring
within the town, across the vale,
till gently whispered through these woods,
faintly caught, unbroken, frail.
A longed for calm reclaims each thread
sewn true in life’s recanting,
softly sets the embers golden,
warms with grace and peace, enchanting.
Dreaming growls escape the hearth
where near my aging hound lies sleeping,
fields of fox and rabbit chase
within the warm fire’s keeping.
In silence, wine and pipe sustain
this moment’s sweet attire,
draws a Christmas hope for peace
before this hearth and fire.