Winter Dawn

The naked trees define themselves anew
As separate from the slowly lightening sky
And dark clouds fade to gray and then to blue
While one lone brilliant star hangs high.
The sky turns bright, yet deathly cold and chill
But in the winter forest far below,
A single branch moves slightly and is still
As morning's warming blush begins to glow.
Suddenly, through the band of winter trees,
A spark, a glint of gold, a burning fire
Reflects its yellow in the oaks' live leaves,
Escapes the woods' confines, and rises higher.
The sun has risen. Welcome, joyous morn,
For night is dead and Christmas Day is born.