*
I heard an infant crying in the night
A new born lamb come mewling to the fold
It’s writ on ancient stone in words of old
‘Within the silence and the still, the light’
The moon is high, the mistle berry white
The ice shines in the darkness, in the cold
The stars are born, as all the bards foretold
Within the silence and the still, the light
Insists itself, as soft at first and slight
White shifts within the mist upon the wold
That lift as it comes rising rose and gold
Within the silence and the still, The Light!
New born in winter, beautiful and bright
Within the silence and the still, the light
*
© Gail Foster 21st December 2018
gailfromdevizes 