Today - a town trip, the tall creamy candles, gleaming brasses, crimson and gold cloth, and the crib: tiny place with a few faithful people keep the flame alive. Back home - my peaceful room with my own candles lit, and the clock ticks - already at 4 the darkness rises. Calm Christ Mass this year with no weather, the cars and camper vans pass at the foot of my garden but no frost. No surprises. Boring is good. No crises.next poem