Hello everyone, it's Casper and I'm here with our annual tradition of a Christmas poem to celebrate this holiday season.

And I'm very excited to share this beautiful poem by Mary Oliver called Snowy Night, which is, if you imagine looking out of the window, seeing a kind of, you know, wintry scene in the cool, a dark sky, maybe some

starlight. So let that kind of settle into your imagination as I read this. And just before I do,

let me say thank you to each and every one of you for listening, for loving Harry Potter and

the Sacred Text. We're so, so glad to have you with us. Special thanks

to the Fetzer Institute for being such a support to the show this year. And also just a

reminder to come join me in Prince Edward Island to read Anne of Green Gables on our beautiful pilgrimage

coming up in June of 2025, which is coming in just a few days. The new year is about to start. But before it comes,

please enjoy Snowy Night by Mary Oliver. Last night, an owl in the blue dark tossed an

indeterminate number of carefully shaped sounds into the world, in which a quarter of a mile away I happened to

be standing.

I couldn't tell which one it was, the bard or the great horned ship of the air, but it was

distant.

Anyway, aren't there moments that are better than knowing something and sweeter?

Snow was falling so much like stars stars filling the dark trees that one could easily imagine,

its reason for being was nothing more than prettiness.

I suppose if this was someone else's story, they would have insisted on knowing whatever

is knowable, would have hurried over the fields to name it,

the owl, I mean. But it's mine, this poem of the night, and I just stood there, listening

and holding out my hands to the soft glitter falling through the air. I love this world, but not for its answers.

And I wish good luck to the owl, whatever its name. And I wish great welcome to the snow,

whatever its severe and comfortless and beautiful meaning. Happy holidays, everyone. Merry Christmas.

...