(1) Three December Poems. (2) Advent - tide 2015. (3) In the Art Class.

                1.

   December Midnight.


Paper lanterns on a hill;
The houses look so small tonight:
Somewhere snow is falling.

                  *

   December Pruning.


Christmas is almost upon us:
I cut the rose bush down
To the size of a crown of thorns.

                   *

            The Fall.


Blood red roses on the path,
The final debris of last summer
Spilt upon brown leaves.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
December 3rd. - 11th. 2015.

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                   2.

        Advent - 2015.


             How mild the night is!
Although it is now
             raw hearted December
the wind is soft upon my cheek.

                   *

Blue flowers are breaking
        through the stone path,
Widening cracks between
        the broad flags,
Creating a surface that is so
               uneven,
It has become dangerous to
            walk upon.

                    *

The path was laid in early September.
The path was laid with consummate
                                                     care.

This strangely gentle Advent weather
        Perhaps warns of a darker story
        Than that revealed in Bethlehem.
The shepherds kneeling like true saints:
        The wise men bearing sacred gifts.
        The baby sleeping in a manger.

In that year the winter was bleak and chill.

                     *

        How mild the night is.
        How mild and still.
        How mild for mid December.
Perhaps,
when the sickle of the waning moon
Slits the birth cord of the new born year
These southern hills will be flecked with
                                                         snow.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
12th. - 14th. December 2015.

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                     3.

        In the Art Class.


Sitting still, watching aircraft
Losing height over London.
Sounds of charcoal scratching paper.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
4th. December 2015.