Stephen Leake


A sudden presence.
He arrives through the pining air.
The wind has left the holly
To carry him here.

I wave my sleeping hand
To his lasting face:
A bright pure symbol
Displacing our pasts,
Perfect as a candle
At a yuletide feast.

Christmas Eve,
Each stained-glass dream
Filters his acceptance.

He's mid-winter himself
Stretching white-angled wings
To shadow the star and spire.

Our thoughts exchange-
As a wealth of presents
In his frost-feeling night.
Low fires and incense feed the
Hours. The far hours which carry
The Holy Gift:
A love complete,
Stepping, between
The stars.

Copyright Stephen Leake:  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

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