christmas poem

it was a tall young oysterman
brother, i am fire
night is dark, and the winter winds
the mountains they are silent folk
in halls of sleep you wandered by
in may
to the passionate lover
do you hear the rain?
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
soft as the bed in the earth
out of the window a sea of green trees
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea