Christmas candles passive glow
red and green they're made for show.
See them burn with feeble top
listen too, those things will talk.
They love to tell of yester-Yules
as their ancient Spirit pulls.
They bring back Dad, I see him plain
smiling wide inside their flame.
I smile back, he sure looks swell
Wax impression? I can't tell.
Sniffling, I savor it
and watch the candle's favorite:
Lonely couple on a road,
youngish girl with a load.
Distended belly and it hurts
pain is sharp and comes in spurts.
The man is scared, can't escape it
he asks again, "Can you make it?"
She smiles back, "Yes I can!"
They top a hill, there's Bethlehem.
Mary's brave, but looks weaker.
Just one inn and there's the keeper.
They're all full, but in this plight
yonder stable looks alright.
Joseph takes and fluffs fresh hay
Mary sits and begins to pray.
Heaven answers, baby born
wrapped in cloth to keep him warm.
Slumber falls upon the scene
baby Jesus sleeps serene.
Then shepherds come in talking low
of angels met just hours ago.
I lean in and strain my ears
some new noise quite interferes.
I bolt up to find the cause
in the door walks Santa Claus!
Peninsula Clarion ©2014. All Rights Reserved.