Across the lowly equator they have flown, <br />The days of sweltering heat and butterflies. <br />And the poinsettia shows all it green display, <br />Without the brightness of its yellow eyes. <br />Looking forward to the Holy Night, <br />When in blazing bracts it is born anew. <br />Celebrating the Holy Advent of our Savior, <br />With its hypnotizing ruby red debut. <br />The gift of sight to the spiritually blind, <br />Who have spent a season in a green spell, <br />With hearts awaiting the honored return, <br />Of the joyful sound of the silver bell. <br />The summer has been hot and dreary, <br />With little love for the heart to desire. <br />But come November of every autumn, <br />Our spirit yearns for the Yule Fire. <br />As the flaming bracts don their glowing style, <br />The babe's eyes shine with nascent light. <br />With such beauty to nurture its first vision, <br />It makes the joy bells ring right through the night.<br /><br />Albert Price<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-to-the-poinsettia/
