He will come like the frost

I love this poem by Rowan Williams:

Advent Calendar

He will come like last leaf's fall.

One night when the November wind has flayed the trees to bone,

 and earth wakes choking on the mould,

the soft shroud's folding.

 He will come like the frost.

 One morning when the shrinking earth opens on mist,

 to find itself arrested in the net of alien, sword-set beauty.

 He will come like dark.

One evening when the bursting red December sun draws up the sheet

 and penny-masks its eye

 to yield the star-snowed fields of sky.

 He will come, will come will come like crying in the night,

 like blood, like breaking,

 as the earth writhes to toss him free.

He will come like child.