Oh my, it’s nearly Christmas. We love our festive traditions and here’s a particular favourite: the Northern Soul Christmas poem by our very own Poetry Correspondent, Wendy Pratt, written in response to Paul Hunter’s beautiful photograph.
Snow Scene, Swainby, North Yorkshire
This spire has pulled the hedges into line
and touched the tops of telephone wires
and blown home in a blizzard,
and come to rest where we might find it.
We stumble like sleep walkers,
where sound is muffled-memory
and snow has picked out all our seams
and left us ready to be remade.
All is white. The hills are on their knees
awaiting candles, soft singing, the purity of light.