Light in the Dark Months

Be it that pub on Broadway
or Terroni’s of Holborn,
or your bitesized flat,
more like the stature of a model home;

It does not matter to me,
where it is that I hold out my palms flat,
Resting on them a cake,
with one crowning flame.

a shivering smidge of fire,
That livens an entire room,
turns the crowd to a choir.
December's luminescence is

The thing with feathers,
To me.
It does not matter where the candle is lit,
but that I get to light a moment for you.