Today’s Poem: Twelfth Night

Sally Thomas on the closing of the Christmas season

Jan Steen, Twelfth Night Feast, c. 1675 (Wikimedia Commons)

Twelfth Night

by Sally Thomas

Already a spider’s run a shining skein
Between one standing magus and one who kneels,
Offering myrrh. Outside, a too-warm rain

Pounds the early spears of daffodils
Who’ve rushed their cue and think it’s Holy Week.
Inside, the manger occupies all mantels.

The child is everywhere, and wise men seek
Him still, throughout the house. In knots of three
They travel, bearing fragile gifts that break

From their re-glued-on fingers. After thirty
Christmases, these touring companies
Begin to feel their age like you and me.  

Our berries drop. By shuddering degrees, 
Our candles drown themselves in waxen lakes.
The tree’s a staring corpse. Stars in a blaze

Of silver glitter, hung from wires like fish-hooks,
Gaze down on the leavings time has strewn
Before the infant king who, smiling, looks

Steadfastly at the air, changeless and clean.
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The Twelve Days of Christmas begin with Chris…