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Hi everyone, it's Casper, and every holiday season you may remember, we like to share a poem. And so this year I'm sharing the poem by Knut Erdogard, that's my best pronunciation,

and his poem called Priest, I hope you enjoy.

Uncle Knut was a priest. He was a practical man, but Latin was Greek to him. He died after his

retirement. He stood and dug the site for the new house when his heart gave way.

He was more an electrician than a preacher.

He began all his speeches by saying,

I'm not much of one for speeches, and he was right about that.

He did not really have much to teach his parishioners.

They had their own troubles with their births,

with their love and their death, and he did not have words for such things. But he had learnt to repair electric wires, and he visited people in their homes, and mended short circuits

and defective fuse boxes.

He screwed lamps into place, and wherever he had been, there was light.

Thanks everyone, and happy holidays.