AS ON THE SILENT NIGHT, THE HOLY NIGHT

 

AS ON THE SILENT NIGHT, THE HOLY NIGHT

I entered the poem as if it were a moonlit wood

And saw the clouds weep drifts of snow

Why are you weeping I asked the clouds

But they didn’t know

Tears for mysterious reasons

Sometimes flow

For the jeweled stars that in their courses go

As they have gone before;

For the history of light in all its chiming;

A sharp intake of breath

The scent of winter’s trees invigorates

The soul the soul wanting to be evergreen;

hallowed moonlight settles down on me

As warm as fleece

An unseen comfort is all around

As on the silent night, the holy night.

mary angela douglas 27 april 2024