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Christmas Brittle as a glass bauble The season when everything glitters and sparks: Guests arrive, shrugging off memories <\/p>\n <\/p>\n Jan Harris<\/strong> lives in Nottinghamshire and writes poetry, flash fiction and short stories. \u00a0Her work has appeared in 14 Magazine, nth Position, Abridged, Popshot and Mslexia<\/em>.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Christmas Brittle as a glass bauble poised to fall from the pine\u2019s soft tips, or a wine glass perched on the table\u2019s edge. The season when everything glitters and sparks: party people, sequinned and jewelled, hands meeting like flint and steel; garlands of laughter; cape gooseberries, their golden fruits ablaze in paper […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[35],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6148","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-twelve-days-of-christmas-2013"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6148","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6148"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6148\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":23945,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6148\/revisions\/23945"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6148"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6148"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6148"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
\n<\/strong><\/p>\n
\npoised to fall from the pine\u2019s soft tips,
\nor a wine glass perched on the table\u2019s edge.<\/p>\n
\nparty people, sequinned and jewelled,
\nhands meeting like flint and steel;
\ngarlands of laughter; cape gooseberries,
\ntheir golden fruits ablaze in paper leaves.<\/p>\n
\nthat might dampen their light:
\nthe cards they didn\u2019t need to write this year,
\na copy of The Sense of an Ending<\/em>
\nstill waiting to be wrapped.
\n<\/strong>
\nLater, while seasoned logs burn long and slow,
\nthey will place the old year in the embers
\nwatch it flicker, flare,
\nturn from blue to gold.<\/p>\n