Friday, December 16, 2022

A Longing



I wonder now in Bethlehem

as shepherds tend their sheep,

is the grass upon the hills

coarse beneath their feet?

And do the shepherds search the sky

taking light from milk-swept stars

and start to hear a harmony,

a faint sweet sound, forgotten choir?

I wonder now these miles away

with all my concentration bent,

could I hear, too, a remnant play

across the generations sent

to those who would participate

in the Christ Child’s birth, however late?


©1995 Muriel Thumm

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