Ancient willows rise steadily and high,

Tall, proud and forever more

Aiming to touch the sky

Their beauteous leaves dance and wave

At cotton-clouds floating by —

For the leaves whisper a song of Christmas.

Those willows shelter roadside choirs,

Whose chorusing revives even

the weakest sufferers

And consumes the air, ringing

With merriment and wishes —

For the sopranos sing of Christmas.

The bell-like voices can be heard in the snowy garden,

Where children run around

Gifting gifts and cards,

Their laughter and rhymes warm

The chilly breeze abound —

For the children's joy is for Christmas.

All of this is perturbed by the massive ding-dong bells,

The bells of the church,

Of invitations doth they tell;

Their chimes ring loud and clear, blessing

All the spiritual yokel —

For the church bells chant the spirit of Christmas.

Don't ask, hahahaha, this is lousy. I wrote two poems during a lonely Christmas some years ago... Was only around thirteen I think. Little me writing poetry... definitely not as good hehe. Not that I've seen what a wintery Christmas is like, but this was for me to vent my imaginations. This poem, and the next one! Enjoy, I guess!