Here’s another Christmas poem from Sweden. That day was so magical I just had to record it. The mentioned “Kent” is my dear heroic husband who’s bee out with the tractor shoveling snow, widening the road, chopping more wood, feeding the fire, keeping it going… in this record cold 2010 winter.

Here’s another Christmas poem from Sweden.  That day was so magical I just had to record it. The mentioned “Kent” is my dear heroic husband who’s bee out with the tractor shoveling snow, widening the road, chopping more wood, feeding the fire, keeping it going… in this record cold 2010 winter.

          Christmas Day On And Around The Lake  

  Stora Härsjön.

For future generations

Of the English-speaking world, pronounce it

‘Hairshern’. One of God’s creations

Which they named Big Lake.

They’re skating up and down, zigzag, across.

From far three specks come into focus:

Man with dogs, parading toward a thin-iced dam.

Fear subsides – he’s local clan.

His kind knows every deep edged plane.

Kent is sweeping snow that dusts

The ice – in preparation for a skate.

I wait,

          Brooklyn girl at window, while Viking

Feigns a shoe-drawn figure eight,

The outdoor rink scant meters from the house.

Enchanting bay-cum-pond embosomed in a wood.

We have a life uniquely good:

Biscuits in the oven; sitting, watching

While they brown, snatching, catching

Surfaces that rest on life this day,

A perfect way to view it.

The atmosphere is peerless

And I want it down for always.

Neighbor Hammer’s built a fire on the ice

Where Kent and Hammer’s sons

Build branch by branch, a flame, the highs

So bright, so red it could be called flamboyant (get it?)

As a day-short sky grows dusky and I watch,

A scone already spread with butter sampled

In my mouth.

©Christmas Day On And Around The Lake 96.1.31

Circling Round Nature; Swedish Book;

Arlene Corwin

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