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Yule Gifts

Wood pinks and ivy streaked his antique beard
While forest antlers bloomed about his head.
Sat on a throne of knotted roots he said
‘There’s music in the sea and under tree,
There’s music in a trunk beneath your bed
‘There’s stories in the glow of lamplit snow
There’s stories on the paths you’ve yet to tread.

The whispering land reveals a key uncut:
where owl claws clasp the mouseling in its plight,
where wolfmen chase the moon throughout the night,
there’s riches on old bones neath vaulted stones,
there’s riches in the spire’s fading light.
There’s freedom for the bold who fear no gold
There’s freedom for the windborn to take flight.'

© Debbie Gallagher, copyright and all rights reserved Dec 23rd 2014

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