THE CHRISTMAS FIRE
The snow lies thick on the ground outside,
The wild winds have at last slowed and died.
The starry sky is both clear and wide,
It’s Christmas time in the countryside.
Cedar logs pack my Grandfather’s shed,
And their scent completely fills my head.
We gather the logs that will be fed
To the fire before we go to bed.
Kindling lights off the very first match,
The logs join in and the flames soon catch.
Grandmother’s bread is about to hatch,
Spread with the last apple butter batch.
Hear the sap pop and watch the sparks fly,
Up the flue they go to meet the sky.
Heat toasts my feet and they soon are dry,
Happiness like this you cannot buy.
All Rights Reserved