My mother passed thirteen days ago. I have not felt very much like doing any of the usual Christmas things: no tree, no gift shopping, no decorations. However, my grandson and I went to a Hallmark store two days ago to get some Christmas cards, I to get one for my wife, he to get one for his girl.
I usually make my own, printing them up and writing a poem to put inside. This year the poetic imagination was pretty arid.
This morning, however, I woke up with a glimmer of an idea which was related to our having seen the film Glory again about 4 days ago.
The poem was a metaphor likening the army to the trials of life.
I'm glad it came to me. It has been a full year, a very full year...
Christmas Glory
At the far ridge of a hard and hungry hill:
the distant brass of war, the piping furtive peace;
beneath the reeds of windy trees we advance
the colours of our love!
Today is also my granddaughter's first Christmas.
--
note: the last line of the poem is a quote from Shakespeare, hence the British spelling of "colour".
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