Christmas Morning
There were many gifts
sleeping under the tree
still as statue.
And many ornaments,
round and oval,
multicolored and square,
Strands of silver tinsel,
candy canes and shepherds,
stars, miniature animals.
An angel that could save
a soul perched majestically
atop the fragrant pine bough.
The oak manger lighted,
its plain and humble stable
surrounded by gifts of magi.
Christmas stockings hung
over the crackling hearth, their
fine woven yarn-names,
intricate as the threads of history,
leading us through the confusion
of this year into the next.
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