Winter's Chosen One Poem by DM W

Winter's white bones poke
Through December's pale blue flesh.
The trees are spectral,
And black. The nights are so long.
Nature resembles
A negative photograph.
Spring's incubation
Is paused under frozen earth.
This is the year's death.
The air is filled with a kind
Of numb nostalgia.
Still, Christmas tidings of joy
Await us. Give thanks
For His innocent blessings.
For He will come like
The rare light of warm wisdom
in the ravaged night;
Haunted by cold presences.
He will come in form
Of ragged child, not as rich
Satiated king,
He'll be wrapped in swaddling clothes;
Pure as driven snow.
He will come as sacred one.
Yet in flesh and blood.
He will come naked as a lamb
Yet clad in glory.
When hardened earth has freed him,
It's sweetest song bird,
Who will beautify the world.