Sometimes when I begin I have a sense of who might be coming, sometimes, as this time, I have no inkling...
I just begin with a hat of softest white, perhaps of snow?
Ohhhh adorned with pink hearts?
To follow into a long long ever growing beard full of love
And on to the pocket and then the toes
Perhaps a love letter bearing gnome?
but no...
His face shows more delicacy than I would have known,
you never really know until you see their faces.
He seems elfin and oh so kind
A baby strawberry in his care, with the tiniest perfect self made nose
Suddenly it is clear he is a baker of delicious treats which he carries on a tray while the baby rides in a stripy back pocket
and,
while in our land all that beard might cause concern to food hygienists, where he lives it is an inviting perch, a resting nest of love for birds who come to share his wares,
that must be how the hearts grew there, both signal and evidence of his gentle generosity
and, 
