Snow lies on the river-bank in undulations softer than the limbs of the newborn child.
There is no gleam, no sound, no shadow, just the dark, dark river that flows and moans
Like it was homeless, like the newborn child whose limbs are like
The snow weighs heavily on the fir trees and clothes the field with pure whiteness.
But the homeless are cold and Christmas brings hope for the hungry and lonely.
Christmas brings her bright rich gifts of colour and warmth
and fragrance of food brings delight
So that where there is no joy there is light.
Friendly faces bring warmth and light like the Christmas star
which lights the way to the newborn child
Whose limbs are like the undulations on the river-bank of snow.
Christmas Gifts
-by S. Self, after George Eliot
(from Chapter 2, "The Christmas Holidays", The Mill on the Floss)
