December 10

His day’s work done,

the sun, like a tired old man,

draws the curtains closed

and leans, dreaming, by the window,

till his old pal the moon

silverwhispers him into

a soft blanket of stars.

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Painting by R. Waiksnis

December 9

Stood I humble on the mountain

Witness to a massacre of light.

West of fire, south of flame,

The heaven’s countenance starred with tears.

Now what a gorgeous doom unfurled itself!

Slain by the sky’s bronze sabres,

The clouds lay in silent state till

Awesome night, resplendent in velvet,

Drew close its mourning cloak

Of richest blue.

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Painting by R. Waiksnis