The table fills with shapes of snow,
Of stars and trees in tidy rows;
We swirl on icing, soft as snow—
The joy is in the cookies made.
Red sprinkles fall like tiny lights,
Green sugar coats the frosted nights;
Each cookie gleams with small delights—
The joy is in the cookies made.
A gingerbread with sugared grin,
A candy cane with stripes drawn thin;
We laugh as crumbs collect again—
The joy is in the cookies made.
When trays are full and ovens fade,
We share the sweetness love has laid;
No frost outside can make us trade—
The joy is in the cookies made.