…that this is my last post before Christmas?? I know, right? Where has the time gone?
Actually, I know exactly where the year’s gone, because I wrote about it in last week’s post.
Next week is Christmas Eve, so I’ll be busy corralling the village’s children into some sort of order for the rock-up-and-go nativity – and then enjoying a much-needed few glasses of mulled wine.
So, in the spirit of Christmas giving, I wanted to finish the year by giving you a poem.
It’s a poem that began life on Christmas Day over two decades ago. Now, it lives on in my collection, White Ghosts.1
It’s a poem about memory, and how the past slips through our fingers. It’s a poem with a reverent (irreverent?) nod to Ted Hughes. It’s a poem about winter, and a snowy garden, and a fox.
I hope you enjoy it – and I hope you have a wonderful festive season!
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