Let Us Be

Christ Mas.

More Christ

infant in us,

simple mystery.

 

Oh, come

let us adore

the center

of the lullaby.

 

Rock us gently,

lay us down

in the manger

with the Child.

 

Mother Mary

held His eyes in hers,

and rocked us

gently for a while.

Wait Here. A Poem

A loitering cloud,
hanging around,
smoking,
looking cool
in the leathered sky.

Apparently no agenda,
no place to go,
so it leans against
the evening
and waits for a star.