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I meet this winter without celebration,
as the man who was dying, but now lives,
greets the ants that pass through his kitchen
in narrow, undisturbed rows.When the child with her crown of candles
comes to my door in her white dress, singing,
I watch the delicate notes disperse in pale
cold light, like snow.
St. Lucia Day @ Wikipedia
"Santa Lucia" in Sweden @ Holidays & Festivals Around the World
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To greet the winter as death, not life.
Interesting poem. Thank you.
Posted by: Brian | 14 December 2006 at 01:14 PM