After Reading Dickens in December

Even now,

in the flicker of lamplight on the wet street,

there is someone -

spine bent, coat thin -

passing unnoticed.

And the bells in the old story

still ring out across the air,

insisting:

you have not yet

missed the morning.

The heart,

that stubborn winter field,

can still be thawed

by the smallest hand

held open.

GBS

1989