This starry dawn - the wise men yet afar -
the shepherds are abed, their night's task done.
Is Mary tired? Or, as one untouched?
All birth's a miracle; not less this one.
The cattle have bestirred at hint of morn,
the thought of feeding making moist their muzzle;
straw is rustling, as they, manger-drawn,
find unfamiliar form- so warm - to nuzzle.
What were the first words Joseph softly said
to Mary, as dawn broke, this day of days?
And who, sent from the inn to cattle-shed
to feed and lay fresh straw, fell still in praise?
How long, this morn, before the murmured sound
of voices in the street, as Word gets round?
(revisited)
This one is absolutely beautiful Michael, a lovely picture and lovely words and lines. thank you for posting it. Happy New Year, and I hope it's a good one for you. Love Ernestine XXX
Lovely poem. This one has music as well as meaning; Regards, Sandra Fowler
a touching poem fine images describing the miracle although being a Jewish fella (long time ago) the miracle is always the poem good work
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Micheal I like your uneque signature style