perspective of the season changes
as years pile on top of one another
like the drifts of autumn leaves
or snow along the roadside

we accumulate memory, traditions, perspectives
useful in earlier lives and times
no longer green fragrant branches
but delicate as gold tissue

hold these tenderly, lovingly
breathe in the scent of new hay
smell the wool and wood
inhale that warm perfume
frankincense and myrrh
on the tiny Babes skin
let the perspective change again


with breathless wonder
December is welcomed-
this year with open arms

decorations, long stored away,
reappear under delicate tissue and tinsel,
pristine in their nostalgia

recipes, dusty with ancient flour
and memories, awaken senses
from long ago kitchens

wrapping, ribbon, old bows,
adorn newly polished relics
damasked and sewn

chalk figures purchased with pennies
gaze in adoration at the Baby
in the creased cardboard stable

this is the year of my delight-
Christmas is mine again

Second week of Advent


When an angel appears to me,
I’m pretty sure I will have questions.

I will say
What do you mean?
What are you saying?
And then I’m pretty sure
I will lose my voice
like Zechariah.
I will be left mute
until it comes to pass.

Or like Jacob,
I will wrestle my angel
until I am left with a limp
and maybe a name change
and hopefully a blessing.

But when that angel shows up
and says
Fear not,
I want to be fear-less.
I want to live my life
and fear not whatever comes.

Today, I will pray for
ferocity of fearlessness
and be ready to roar
whenever that angel shows her face.

Second Sunday of Advent