by Rowan Williams
He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed the trees to bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud’s folding.
He will come like frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth
opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.
He will come like dark.
One evening when the bursting red
December sun draws up the sheet
and penny-masks its eye to yield
the star-snowed fields of sky.
He will come, will come,
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free.
He will come like child.
From Light Unlocked: Christmas Card Poems, edited by Kevin Crossley-Holland and Lawrence Sail, published by Enitharmon (£10). Originally from The Poems of Rowan Williams, published by Perpetua Press
Merry Christmas! Back in the New Year.
The Pygmy Giant 
#1 by Bob Jacobs on December 25, 2009 - 1:51 pm
Nice poem, Rowan. Good to see you here in The Pygmy Giant. I live in Canterbury, too. Merry Christmas.