The eleventh dawns with silver skies,  
A soft December sun will rise.  
The air is crisp, the ground is white,  
A blanket fresh from last night’s light.  
The trees wear gowns of snowy lace,  
Each branch adorned with winter’s grace.  
The world feels still, the moment true,  
As dreams of Christmas start anew.  
The windows glow with candle’s cheer,  
Their warmth is felt, both far and near.  
Each heart prepares for joy to come,  
The songs, the gifts, the hearth, the hum.  
For in December’s early days,  
The season builds in wondrous ways.  
The eleventh calls: let kindness grow,  
And spread like starlight’s gentle glow.