Wednesday, December 15
Magpie Tales # 45
Evening dark enfolds the waiting city.
Children dream, perhaps of Santa Claus,
while juke-box music churns its tuneless ditties
into the streets where nobody gives pause
to think of Christmas.
The midnight hour solemnly approaches;
a small group congregates in vacant pews,
their measured footsteps rhythmically encroaching
upon a silence echoing with the news
of that first Christmas.
Around the crib the candlelight is flickering,
but muted organ notes cannot compete
with raucous sound of angry voices bickering
from drunken revellers outside in the street.
Can this be Christmas?
Expectant landscape waits for welcome silence,
as moon and stars continue on their way
around a world beset with wars and violence
which needs the gift of Peace as much today
as that first Christmas.
Wilow's prompt for Magpie Tales this week reminded me of these verses I wrote way back. I have posted them before on Napple Notes, but they remain as pertinent as at their first appearance, and it will do no harm to give them another airing, as visiting commenters vary each year...