R.S.Thomas: Christmas

There is a morning;
Time brings it nearer,
Brittle with frost
And starlight. The owls
In the parishes. The people rise
And walk to the churches’
Stone lanterns, there to kneel
And eat the new bread
Of love, washing it down
With the sharp taste
Of blood they will shed.

R.S.Thomas (1913 – 2000 ): from the collection, ‘Not that he brought flowers– (1968)

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