Christmas 2003
Strange is this place in which we find ourselves,
From parents’ hearths we two have traveled far.
And yet a home of sorts we have made here,
Still guided by same sun, same moon, same stars.
What fate has spun this unexpected thread?
What weft in some design will our skein fill?
Does Adonai our lives manipulate,
Or do we choose this course of our own will?
Pattern unknown to us, we can but trust,
The gentle weaver’s hand, our Lord divine.
Regardless of what space may separate
Our thread from yours, we’re ever intertwined.
And so with you, our friends from far and wide
We share one hope, one love this Christmastide.
Christmas in Fairfield, OH, 2003
Obviously I had a sonnet in mind that year, but came up short on the rhyme scheme. Still, it isn't a bad little poem, and it does mention stars, per the Poetry Bus prompt from the Weaver of Grass.
9 comments:
Very nice! I love that name, "Adonai" and interesting how you wove "weaver" into it!
No worries about the sonnet; this stands well on its own.
Kat
A lovely tapestry, indeed.
I love the weaving imagery and the essential question of the poem, which you answer in the turn. Not quite a sonnet but a very nice poem!
Merry Christmas.
Dear C.L.,
"One love at Christmastide". Now that is a happy, thoughtful ending.
The weaving conceit definitely works for me.
And have a very great day!
Ann T.
P.S. You and the Bug have inspired me to go check out the Bus. I b'lieve I have a ticket, at least this week.
Richly textured, evocative in a hymnal sense. Powerful write!
My wife would love to get a poem like that from me. Sadly I can't do it without giggling. But you have the gift, my friend.
What can I say, Peter...I'm a closet Victorian, or at least hopelessly lost in 19th century Romanticism. Be glad I didn't quote from Ivanhoe or something :-)
CL, this is a lovely tribute to the way our lives intertwine. I love the bird feeders! Once, my son's birdhouse became home for a family of bluebirds. However, the following year it became the nest for hornets. As they wrapped the little house in their papery saliva, it looked like Dupont siding. Even the exterminator stood in awe of the sight.
Merry Christmas!
Another Linthead love poetry special! Bravo!
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