The strangely still and quiet time that falls,
'Twixt Christmas night and after new years day,
Of unexpected cards and happy calls,
As obligations drift and schedules stray.
All business is conducted half asleep,
Deferred, adjourned, extended and postponed,
By those who stop the ticking clocks to keep,
The season, safely hidden in their homes.
The days are long and lasting, soft and warm,
Like twilight's edge, suspended in the cold,
An eye in life's relentless raging storm,
A chapter closed, before the next is told.
