An early poem, inspired by Victoria
Magazine.
In
the mist of snow
at
midwinter,
Christmas-red
running
down
the candles,
stars
white and breathless
at
the sparkle of lights
on
snow
and
icy silver.
Pontresina
rosy
lilts,
bright-clothed
in
the embroidered flowers
of
tradition,
light
and warmth
to
the pealing alpine valley.
Where
the true color
of
a thousand years
scratched,
lingers,
children
joyous singing
we
chase the winter away
and
coals
are
the brightest, sweetest light.
Allelu…
March
the streets, ringing.
Emily Isaacson
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