Between autumn's offerings
And spring's wings,
Our winter lights are everything.
Crisp sky nights string tinsel streams,
And crystal air heils winter's dreams.

Poplar trees that snowed in summer
Are treasures held in winter's slumber;
Their branches hold in silhouette
Crowning stars that brightly sit.

Here dreams of flight and fancy thrill
Shimmering eyes on a gift-wrapped hill.
Shorelines once rubbed with reeds,
Are splashed by our moonlight beads.
Knolls wrapped in wreaths of herring bone,
Like sirens call us out from home.

Stars held in place with poplar fingers
Ring our ponds like carolling singers.
There nestled by framed winter scenes,
Our winter lights glint red and green.

These lights, that through our windows stream,
Bring to mind warm Christmas dreams.