Christmas 2013 Poem by Paul Hicks

The mistletoe from trees is sawn
And elders tiredly yawn;
While youngsters plan their Christmas morn
A child is born.

Warm blinds against the dark are drawn,
Their inmates wait for dawn;
While landlords fill their Yuletide horn
A child is born.

Betwixt the world and Godhead torn
Before our toys we fawn;
While in thin air our clergy warn
A child is born.

All unbeknown to us a thorn
Defiles our precious lawn;
While stripes alone our eyes inform
A child is born.

Materialistic lusts we spawn
And build a race forlorn,
Remote from God, alone, withdrawn,
And yet - a Child IS born.

(November 2013)