Sonnet 569

St. Nicholas on that cold, dark  winter’s night
Climbed up upon his reindeer-driven sleigh
Around which lay bright snow all glistening white,
Above, the sprinkled stars to mark his way.
A sack of dreams sat nestled by his side
And with a whistle sharp, his team trod air
To lift him on that magic-moonlit ride,
That brings to Earth, the joy of Christmas cheer.
On ancient hopes his mystic coursers flew
As children softly slumbered in their beds,
While hearts in quiet hope and wonder grew
As peace and harmony soft rest their heads;
And with that promise born of Bethlehem,
He spread warm joy—and so, good will to men.

© Loubert S Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.

Sonnet 568

What is the measure of a woman fair—
A smile, a look, an ever-fetching gaze?
Sweet saucy curls of sun-lit burnished hair,
A peerless face to every heart amaze?
A graceful carriage gladdened by the sun,
A step, a sigh, a moue, a tender swoon;
A gesture born of  limbs soft slender spun—
Smooth silken skin sheer silv’rd by the moon?
What essence pure can capture heaven’s light,
Distill its soul and stir it into song,
That every heart by scent, by sound, by sight
Beholds an angel rising from the throng?
It is a precious gift that few may know—
Still named by every grace, you mark it so.

© Loubert S. Suddaby. All Rights Reserved.