Time at Least
Before the final ember tires
Within the hearth’s inviting fires,
There’s time at least for joyous feast
Among the songs of ageless choirs.
The sanctum of the season’s hollow
Wherein no sullen storm may follow
Allows at last a ripe repast
And lets the livened laughter wallow.
As darkling skies descend to glower
About the tips of tinsel bower,
Embrace the taste of wishes placed
Upon the fringe of festive hour.