Friday, December 4, 2009
A Smoky Mountain Sleighride
Poem by Ron Evans
When it's Christmas in the Smokies
And we've had a winter's blow
And everything for miles around
Is covered deep in snow.
When we've finished all our shopping
And trimmed the perfect tree,
And find that obligations
Leave some time for you and me;
Then the silver moon beams beckon
And their brightness lights our way,
And there seems no better place to be
Than riding in a sleigh.
So many times on cold winter nights
We glide the forest trails,
'Mid sound of muffled hoofbeats
And song of harness bells.
We pause upon the old stone bridge
Above the river's glare,
Where hardy skaters pivouette
Despite the frigid air.
And then atop a high hill crest
We stop to rest the mare,
While Heaven's diamond studded stars
Reflect upon your hair.
Such moments last forever
They defy eternity,
For time is held immobilized
By Christmas memory.
Reluctanly we turn for home
And give the nag her head,
She whisks us briskly through the night
We'll soon be home in bed.
And there we'll dream of sculpted drifts
Piled high by winter's blow,
And lovers in a magic sleigh
That skims across the snow...