When the Lullabies Are Dry

When winter dries the earth

I 

I, as in me

Am the water, the sun, and the glow

I have God to give me my gift

And like the dressed tree of Christmas

I open the gift

I write

I breathe it

I can help but to hear 

And it rattles my brain

It scribbles on my paper 

From so young I listen 

I hear the words clearly and am a scribe