The moon is shining in the sky
The stars are twinkling down
The frost is glistening on the grass
And on the rooftops ’round
And I am sitting in my bed
And thinking of the way
One night turned all nights upside down
And made this Christmas Day.
She reached the rock at twilight’s early colors. The stone’s peculiar shape, the deep bowl at its center, reminded Alice of a well. Perhaps that was why it was known as the “wishing rock.” There was water in the basin, but it was shallow and green with resilient plant life.
Alice managed to climb the rock-side, leaning over the water’s surface. Protected from wind, the water was flat, glass-like and still.
A little treat for the snow. You wouldn’t believe the bad rep it gets. Maybe you would. But…’tis the season for forgiveness?
A subtle difference is in the sky,
A light to dream or softly whisper by—
As if, with Heaven’s quiet grace endowed,
A candle flame were whisk’d within each cloud,
And showing faintly through the grey-cast veil
That makes some shining Ceremony pale
Concealing kindled starlight from our eyes
Lest we perceive what angels realize;
Oh still that thrill of eager wonder bright
We feel for this white magic at mid-night.
Let it not be said that I did not enjoy Gabrielle Zevin’s The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry. I did enjoy it. In fact, I only write reviews if I hate or love a book, and I very much hated and loved The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry.