Sometimes a winter evening feels like a story that has already begun without us—

the sky dimming, the snow falling, the trees standing like old witnesses of the cold.

Tonight’s poem enters that story with a single lantern.

There is something deeply touching about a child holding light in a place that seems almost too large for her. She doesn’t shrink from the darkness. She doesn’t rush. She simply walks, and the snow listens.

That is the magic of the Winter Child:

he reminds us that courage can be quiet.

We don’t need to blaze through the world.

We don’t need to shout our way forward.

Sometimes it is enough to carry a small flame and let it guide the next few steps.

This poem is an invitation to return to that gentler way of moving:

to trust the little glow we have,

to honor the soft places where winter reveals its secrets,

to remember that even in the coldest moments,

we are never truly walking alone.

If you read this poem tonight,

I hope it brings you a measure of stillness—

the kind that warms you from the inside out.

Read the full poem and analysis tomorrow 21st: https://alkonda.com/2025/12/21/the-poem-of-the-day-70/  

© Al Konda · The Poetry Elite