Snow falls slowly,
glistening on the hillside in the moonlight.
A gentle wind blows
through the snowcapped evergreens.
The scent of a Christmas dinner floats
From a distant source,
Where a family talks and laughs,
Sharing memories and making more.
But here, it is soft. Silent.
I look to the sky and see
A star shining bright,
Just as it shone long, long ago
To guide Wise Men to where Love’s birth was foretold.
On a night that was soft. Silent.
By Rebecca Faithe