Composed
written by: Stephen Kingsnorth
How moving must a poem be,
to be the choice, vox populi,
choristers, annual visitors,
red letter day, if only one;
though not so, bleak midwinter terms
of piling snow, heaven brought low,
its awkward rhythm, metre, feet –
an incarnation in repeat.
For span is scanned from heav’n to straw,
the question posed at stable door,
end, abrupt interrogative,
yet stated as inviting faith,
a creed left hanging, composed air.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
After A Christmas Carol by Christina Rosetti
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