in the clearing

the twisted road finds dark corners

twigs snapping beneath 

the softest of

footfalls, fear 

creeps damp, cold 

the sense of not being 

quite alone, like sweat clinging close 

but this is no

horror story, not

a journey of fear

listen, follow step into the space

around the bend

where light bursts forth

according to plan

at the pub telling stories
in exactly 55 words
 

Caroling praise in 55

The words spill out

as voices sing

uneven rhyme

in melodies

that rise and fall

ascending praise

to Him Who calls

us to be light

in darkening days

Proclaim the glory

truth and grace

the story that recalls

His sacred birth

a mystery

love complex

in simplicity.

Of Him we shout

the words spill out.

Linking up with One Stop Poetry's prompt on Mistletoe and Minstrels

and

G-Man for Friday Flash 55