Partridge Poems for the Twelve Days

March 2024:
"May the light at the heart of Easter be with you always."

Thanks to my sweet friend Katie
for these clever collage cards,
created by artist ~ Temre Stanchfield

December 2015:
"Thank you too for being such a bright Christmas light for us all."

1.
December

A little girl is singing for the faithful to come ye
Joyful and triumphant, a song she loves,
And also the partridge in a pear tree
And the golden rings and the turtle doves.
In the dark streets, red lights and green and blue
Where the faithful live, some joyful, some troubled,
Enduring the cold and also the flu,
Taking the garbage out and keeping the sidewalk shoveled.
Not much triumph going on here — and yet
There is much we do not understand.
And my hopes and fears are met
In this small singer holding onto my hand.
Onward we go, faithfully, into the dark
And are there angels hovering overhead? Hark.

by Gary Johnson
[See also "Table Grace" and "Another Year"]

2.
The Weight of a Snowflake

So cold, ice had frozen the landscape,
Like a key turned in a lock.
A robin held her winter ground
And watched from a tree

As snow covered everything that could be covered.
Nothing was left un-white.
Ditches filled up and trees vanished,
Snow on snow, snow on snow.

A partridge shivered and sheltered
In the branches of a pear tree.
Two turtle doves cuddled up and cooed
From deep within a Scots pine.

Three French hens said ‘Joyeux Noël’
And went home for Christmas,
And four blackbirds called out,
Complaining about how cold it was.

How much does a snowflake weigh?
The robin thought to herself.
Nothing, she replied. In fact,
A little less than nothing.

At that moment the snow seemed to pause for breath,
Except for one solitary snowflake
Which landed on the robin’s branch,
And the brittle branch broke.

Snapped off by the less-than-nothing weight
Of a single, gleaming snowflake.
If one more snowflake falling
Could cause the branch to break,

Then maybe, thought the robin, all we need
Is one more voice to make a difference.
One more less-than-nothing voice.
And she sang. And she sang. And she sang.

by Bill Adair
[Facebook post for Tuesday, December 3]

3.
The one that got away . . .
I hate it when that happens: you come across something good, forget to save, retrace your steps, but have no luck tracking it down. Sigh. When I find it again, I will post it!