December 2, 2009 at 2:44 pm (celebrations, original poetry/prose, the Muse sings, Truth Stranger than Fiction)

O Night of blackest blue,
wreathed in slow-swirling mist,
see how You tempt down the moonlight?
Now we might all dance
with mist, moon, and You.

O Morn of fallen frost,
shiverthrill of chill,
see how You beam down the slanting sunlight?
Now all is carpeted in glittering diamond,
and we are all rich.


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