As On The Silent Night, The Holy Night Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

I entered the poem as if it were a moonlit wood
And saw the clouds weep drifts of snow
Why are you weeping I asked the clouds
But they didn't know
Tears for mysterious reasons
Sometimes flow
For the jeweled stars that in their courses go
As they have gone before;
For the history of light in all its chiming;
A sharp intake of breath
The scent of winter's trees invigorates
The soul the soul wanting to be evergreen;
hallowed moonlight settles down on me
As warm as fleece
An unseen comfort is all around
As on the silent night, the holy night.
mary angela douglas 27 april 2024