Nativity figure speaks

   I felt it, riding through the afternoon--
   the nights are getting shorter and it's cold
   and then the baby shifted in my womb
   and the innkeeper sent us to his sandy field.
   I did what I was made to do. And now
   who knows what else is possible? God's breath
   moves against the soft nose of the cow.
   The moon shines on this shed and on the path
   where you lean, watching us. Who are you?
   I am the round yon virgin of your song.
   You are the sky the light is passing through,
   and you are the iron moonlight. You're sweet fresh-smelling
   hay. You're Bethlehem, the tall kings.
   Reach out, release us from this wooden creche.

COPYRIGHT 2007 The Christian Century Foundation
COPYRIGHT 2008 Gale, Cengage Learning