CHRISTMAS, HE CAME HOME

Dec 25, 2022

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The Wind comes whistling

through the wide-open prairie,

the Voice of Winter.

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It sings of the cold,

a frozen lyric of ice

gray clouds in the sky;

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Howling Coyotes

singing in the Blue Norther,

a song of the Plains.

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Down an oil-top road

Beneath a shivering moon

A tiny house waits

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A light in the dark

beams from a sparkling window

crossed frigid pastures

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Bluestem in the snow

Bending in the Texas Wind

greets the traveller

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Wind opens the door:

He is here - at last, he's home -

She opens her arms

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The storm rushes in

The gale sweeping memories

to life on the Tree

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Only Love can see:

his last promise he has kept -

Christmas, he came home.

R. H. Snow’s Deep Thoughts from the Dubble-wide of D00m