Snowflakes Fall in my Hand | Short Poem No. 115

Snowflakes fall in my hand before fading,
enticing moments of contemplation.

So. . .Today is Christmas.
I should as myself, ‘What does it mean?’

I know every lecture that I’ve been instructed.
What to believe. . .what Christmas is about.
But. . .To be honest. . . I’m only human.
Frankly, I feel like a child tonight.

So, if I can find respite from lessons;
To just lay in this manger and be calm.
Because it’s God, but it’s just a baby. . .
Giving, not rebuke, but joy. . . peace. . .and love. . .

Snowflakes fall in my hand
Photo by Darius Cotoi on Unsplash

If You Still Read Me

Β© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

Author: Jonathan Swift Pines

I'm writing with all of life's saltiness, perfecting poetry in the process. . . Profile Photo by Levi Clancy on Unsplash.

16 thoughts on “Snowflakes Fall in my Hand | Short Poem No. 115”

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