Poetry by Jeff Green


True North

by cricketjeff on December 27, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

At the tip of Lapland’s reaches,
Where the trees no longer grow,
Where the white beluga beaches,
On the everlasting snow.

Past the depths of Northern winter,
Under star bedraggled skies,
Lies the brightest silver splinter,
Of a life lived free from lies.

There, where all is built of wonder,
Where the elves and gnomes must play,
Where our faults are ripped asunder,
Waits the everlasting day.

Built on ancient dreams and curses,
On the truths no longer known;
Sung in twenty thousand verses,
In the North winds mighty moan.

Every childhood dream and passion,
Every secret hidden hope,
Every wish that lives past fashion,
Comes to rest beneath this slope.

Under strange auroral beauty
Labour souls who know their worth;
They are happy doing duty
For the children of the Earth.

Here before men fell to folly,
Long before our modern times,
In the light of burning holly,
He was born from fireside rhymes.

Though his name is ever changing,
And we cannot see his face,
In our hearts he’s rearranging
How we run this mortal race.

So wherever you are living,
What religions give you pause,
You should find some time for giving,
Happy thoughts to Santa Claus.