Gakked from thaelo:
'Twas the night before Yule, when all 'cross the heath,
Not a being was stirring,
Pagan, faerie, or beast.
Wassail was left out and the altar adorned,
To rejoice that the Sun King would soon be reborn.
The children lay sleeping by the warmth of the hearth,
Their dreams filled with visions of belov'd Mother Earth.
M'lady and I beneath blankets piled deep
Had just settled down to our own Solstice sleep.
Then a noise in the night that would leave us no peace
Awakened us both to the honking of geese.
Eager to see such a boisterous flock,
When we raced to the window, our mouths dropped in shock!
On the west wind flew a gaggle of geese, white and gray,
With Frau Holda behind them in her gift laden dray.
The figure on her broomstick in the north sky made it clear,
La Befana was approaching to bestow Yuletide cheer.
From the south came a comet more bright than the moon
And we knew that Lucia would be with us soon.
As these spirits sailed earthward o'er hilltops and trees,
Frau Holda serenaded her feathery steeds:
"Fly Isolde! Fly Tristan! Fly Odin and Freya!
Fly Morgaine! Fly Merlin! Fly Uranus and Gaea!
May the God and Goddess inside you soar
From the clouds on the heavens to yon cottage door."
As soft and silent as snowflakes they fell,
Their arrival announced by a faint chiming bell.
They landed like angels, their bodies aglow.
Their feet left no marks in the new fallen snow.
Before we could ponder what next lay in store,
There came a slow creaking from our threshold door.
We crept from our bedroom and were spellbound to see...
There in our parlor stood the Yule Trinity!
Lucia, the Maiden, with her head wreathed in flame,
Shone with the radiance for which she was named.
The Lightbringer's eyes held the joy of a child,
And she spoke with a voice that was gentle, yet wild:
"May the warmth of this household ne'er fade away."
Then she lit our Yule log which still burns to this day.
Frau Holda in her down cloak stood regal and tall,
The Matron of Solstice, the Mother of all.
Under her gaze we felt safe and secure.
Her voice was commanding, yet almost demure:
"May the love of this family enrich young & old."
And from the folds of her cloak showered coins of pure gold.
La Befana wore a kerchief on her silver hair,
The veil of the Crone who has secrets to share.
In her eyes gleamed a wisdom only gained by spent youth.
Her voice was a whisper but her words rung with truth:
"May health, glad tidings, and peace fill these rooms."
And she banished misfortune with a sweep of her broom.
They then left a gift by each sleeping child's head,
Took a drink of our wassail, and away they sped.
While we watched them fly off through the night sky we laughed
At the wondrous magick we had found in the Craft.
As they departed, the spirits decreed...
"Merry Yule to You All and May All Blessed Be!"