christmas poems

i know what you're going to say
calm as that second summer
her face is fair and smooth and fine
it tells of good old times
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
little gate was reached at last
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
gone are the three, those sisters rare
days endeared to every muse
a pen of steel
skies they were ashen and sober
gingham dog and the calico cat
and with the humming bird
still her gray rocks tower above the sea