A Rumour of Christmas,

Is this the moment


when the cosmic wonders of starlight


and the little beauties of candlelight


might touch the minds of the few


with incomprehensible longings


and trust in transience - almost hidden


by the vanity of tinsel and fairy lights,


the false strength of neon lights,


the deceptive durability


of plastic tree and moon-cold bauble?






Is this the moment


when a birth and a promise


put out the brash lights


and the pale trash,


let in the rumour:


a whisper of joy,


a faint flicker of hope,


a murmur of angels singing


for shepherds and war-worn travellers,


kings and troubled bishops,


Mary, and all women


who, in the bleakness of winter,


worship with a kiss?

Joy Mead