Saturday, December 26, 2009

"'Twas The Morn After Christmas"

On the other side of a nine-paneled pane,
Leaveless trees shivering in the cold,
Branches stretching, reaching, aching for the sun

Within, sleep and slumber start to wane
Four generations celebrating the Birth
People stretching, reaching, waking—new day begun

1 comment:

Mule Skinner said...

From my blog and before I read this poem, "Later in the holiday season and thanks to a pilot friend, our parents were able to fly to us. Our son and his family joined us, as well. We all gathered at Meinplatz for Christmas. With four generations under one roof, we had much to do. We talked, we played, we dined, we felt like family, and Meinplatz felt like home. The owners seemed a lot like family, too."

I am glad to know that similar words and common thoughts tie us together. Blessed be the tie that binds.