First Footing In Scotland, tradition has it that the first person to cross your threshold on Hogmanay (New Year’s Day) is a harbinger of good fortune for the rest to the year. He or she should be welcomed in, given a good nip of whiskey, some shortbread, and a lump of coal to represent a
After The Sleet Storm Ice sheathes the branches Of the hemlocks. My nostrils Have frozen tight shut.
To know how little You remember, move backward Until you forget.
The Journey Of The Magi A cold coming we had of it. Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp. The very dead of winter. And the camels galled, sorefooted, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we
Inexorably The cosmos moves toward death. Nothing will be left.
A FABLE Three old hens lived in the yard of a tender-hearted farmer named Nelly. The hens were at the end of their egg-laying days, but Nelly hated slaughtering her chickens even when they had outlived their usefulness, and the three hens had been with her for a long time. She’d grown rather fond of
Snowy Silence Snow thick on the ground No sound comes from the forest Are the birds alive?
Yes, the newspapers were right: snow was general all over Ireland. It was falling softly upon the Bog of Allen and, further westwards, softly falling into the dark mutinous Shannon waves. It was falling too upon every part of the lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lay buried. It lay thickly drifted on the crooked crosses
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And