King of the Hill

Crispy Christmas Moon,
Crowning above this crowd of clouds,
Light our winter solstice play
With blinding joy the coldness shrouds

Silvery slivers of sled rail trails
The last of the riders wander home
I alone on this silent hill enthroned
Witness your brilliant-white soft dome

Bright as day
So glad you chose to come this way
I pray you’ll stay
But dream of you when we turn gray

 

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