The glowing black nights begin to shrink:
Hungry and sleepless we are now.
There are red and green lights
strung inside this winter sea
Like stiches through a sword.
We hanker for sugar and snow
For smoke and ribbon
Because we are all the gentle infant
Naïve and faithful
Rocking ourselves with wood and hay
Hoping, earnestly, the cheerful Yule
Will mend this last coal wound
So we can feast again.