With Christmas Day approaching, it’s time for a poem appropriate to the season of hope and good cheer.
BETHLEHEM
Shelter at last
and not an hour too soon
for birth is imminent.
A barnyard stench,
the reek of ordure,
straw for bed.
Beneath cross-beams,
shrill birth-screams:
a boy.
Small but perfect.
A manger his crib.
Lowing beasts look on.
One brilliant star
illuminates the yard.
From afar, riders come.
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