Time to think about the reason for the season…
A Holy Night
A holy night?
A night like this, moon stark,
outlines black and white,
frost etching the vegetation.
A night of struggle.
Pain writhing across an abdomen.
A desparate search for shelter.
A wind stretching icy fingers
under thin layers of garments.
A night when food is scarce,
Invisible the angels with
golden crowns, high lofty voices.
An ass brays unhappiness
with an overlong work day.
Some holy night,
the hair matted with sweat and road dust,
th voice hoarse with thirst.
The last shall be first, the first last
and where is the place
to lay a head for this space of time.
Don’t tell me cows and donkeys
have a place to rest
and not a mother, bearing child.
Line a stall with a fragrant bough of pine,
the soft, long-needled variety.
There’ll come a day when this
will be a memory, a story…
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