The Village That Sang (Poetry)
24th December 2014
On Christmas Eve as dusk drew in
the air grew chill and silence reigned
the clouded sky stretched grey and thin
no sign of stars, the old moon waned.
The houses puffed soft curls of smoke
their windows winking candleglow
while shadows wrapped a grainy cloak
enfolding sleeping earth below.
The hush spread wide — the valley stood
like all was frozen still as stone
no creature hunted in the wood
not one thing stirred, no wind made moan.
Each minute crept on muffled feet
as evening nudged late afternoon
nobody walked the village street
the darkened shopfronts sunk in gloom.
Then from the church a soulful chime
broke through the calm — the clock struck four
doling measured lengths of time
that echoed on forevermore.
As though on cue in some near tree
a hidden bird at once gave song
and trilled his notes so fervently
that others joined him — sang along.
And soon the air vibrated with
sweet choruses — glad carols sent
by birds with nothing more to give
than bursts of joy sincerely meant.
Doors and windows were flung wide
to listen, awestruck at the sound —
some magic touched them deep inside
where music stirred, its message found
and roused the hearts of all who heard
to join that choir. Then from each throat
poured forth in harmony Love’s word
and Peace declared in every note.
The swell an ocean’s worth of praise
that welcomed in the coming night
the low-slung roof of sky now raised
a sudden starburst dazzled bright
as fireworks thrown by godly hands
across the void lit up the scene
where neighbours stood in friendship’s bands
and understanding reached between.
All those who witnessed that strange sight
retold the story, named their part
were changed in spirit from that night —
far wiser, with a kinder heart.
Strong voices travel — wave on wave
faint echoes haunt each Christmas Eve
as pure as angels come to save
and rally souls who still believe
the village sang — its voice rang true
that one night only — long ago.
The Heavens answered — blessings flew
and floated silent, pure as snow.
the air grew chill and silence reigned
the clouded sky stretched grey and thin
no sign of stars, the old moon waned.
The houses puffed soft curls of smoke
their windows winking candleglow
while shadows wrapped a grainy cloak
enfolding sleeping earth below.
The hush spread wide — the valley stood
like all was frozen still as stone
no creature hunted in the wood
not one thing stirred, no wind made moan.
Each minute crept on muffled feet
as evening nudged late afternoon
nobody walked the village street
the darkened shopfronts sunk in gloom.
Then from the church a soulful chime
broke through the calm — the clock struck four
doling measured lengths of time
that echoed on forevermore.
As though on cue in some near tree
a hidden bird at once gave song
and trilled his notes so fervently
that others joined him — sang along.
And soon the air vibrated with
sweet choruses — glad carols sent
by birds with nothing more to give
than bursts of joy sincerely meant.
Doors and windows were flung wide
to listen, awestruck at the sound —
some magic touched them deep inside
where music stirred, its message found
and roused the hearts of all who heard
to join that choir. Then from each throat
poured forth in harmony Love’s word
and Peace declared in every note.
The swell an ocean’s worth of praise
that welcomed in the coming night
the low-slung roof of sky now raised
a sudden starburst dazzled bright
as fireworks thrown by godly hands
across the void lit up the scene
where neighbours stood in friendship’s bands
and understanding reached between.
All those who witnessed that strange sight
retold the story, named their part
were changed in spirit from that night —
far wiser, with a kinder heart.
Strong voices travel — wave on wave
faint echoes haunt each Christmas Eve
as pure as angels come to save
and rally souls who still believe
the village sang — its voice rang true
that one night only — long ago.
The Heavens answered — blessings flew
and floated silent, pure as snow.