Christmas Eve of the Eve

Under the Pennsylvania night sky 
where leafless trees stand in bunches,
as the moon hides her face behind winter clouds
foreboding snow and rain. 

Where ashes fall,
blown from the burning woods of the fire pit 
while conversation rings in the air
as voices joined in communion
sound the sweet symphony of fellowship. 

And in the cold crisp air of December, 
on a chilly Christmas Eve,
relationships are forged
where journeys and paths lay undiscovered.