Advent

Crows call in the morning sun, an ancient harp
Heralds digital the longest night approaching
Conjunctions of planets, promise of days to come
World’s light born into darkest night, the holy
Time come ‘round again. 
Childish anticipation at the shortening paper
Chain leading to a quiet morning, but not
Neglectful of the growing pile of gifts beneath
The lighted tree.
We worship what we cannot see, things that
Cannot be shaken, things that will not pass away,
We reverence what we cannot know, mountains
Against the holy sky, junipers covered in snow
Already vanishing with the sun’s power even in
This darkest time, these days while the cold comes.
Longest night, inescapable darkness thirsty for
The light, blind and cold, disease and anger rage
Among us while we celebrate the coming of
Healing and peace. Holiest time of year
Sun returns, fires burn, banishing old fears
Gifts of light, once more, we come to winter’s
Door. May the snow be short-lived, but enough,
May the wind stop at our door, may we come through 
To spring all together and full of light. Grant us
Grace to endure a new year, new burdens, old cares.
King of the sun, Lord of light, in our plentitude
Let us hear the singing of the stars.

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae