In December

by Rebecca Weber

The day is done. The fire dies
To crackling embers in the stove
While moonlight falls on field and farm
And on the freshly-frosted grove.

So dies the year, with all its work;
Its dreams subside to fading coals.
The fruits are picked, the branches bare…
Now waiting silence fills our souls.

But still the moon endures and shines;
It climbs the cloudy heights of sky:
A promise of persistent hope
When this year’s days and embers die.

Rebecca is happiest in the company of housework, words, and people of all sorts, and joyfullest in the presence of Jesus. She lives in the beautiful multicultural city of Kitchener and blogs at

Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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