Christmas poem 2013

I don’t write a Christmas poem every year, but frequently this season finds me inspired, one way or the other. This is actually the second of two poems that I have written this Christmas season. Hope you enjoy!

Christmas Poem 2013
Melinda LaFevers

The animals do speak, they say
according to tradition’s tale
early Christmas morn
when they are all alone
with no one there to hear.

When I was young, I wished
to creep out to the barnyard
late at night, when midnight’s
spell induced the animals to talk.

And bells were said to ring,
giving broken angels wings
to mount up to the heavens
there to proclaim the king.

And I? I sit alone this Christmas Day;
the feast is over, the games are done,
the visitors have gone away
and I have crept back home
and all alone.

It was not on this day so long ago
that shepherds watched their flocks at night.
Not the winter, with its winds so cold,
for then, all things were tucked up tight.

Nay, twas spring or summer,
or probably the fall that saw the
blessed birth that brought to
man such joy and mirth.

But this day was chosen long ago
to bring devotions to the mind
of how the babe was born;
and so Christ’s Mass was celebrated
on this turning of the earth.

‘Tis true that other celebrations
did occur near to this time,
and some do say the time was chosen
to present a choice twixt pagan thought
and Christ divine.

Somewhere, still, within a wooded glen,
the moon all dappled there, between the trees,
unseen by human eye; I sometimes wonder
if the fairy folk still dance.
The spirits walk, they say, upon
the Christmas morn,
as veils between the worlds stretch thin.

They have no souls, the fey.
At least, that’s what the legends say.
And yet I wonder, is that true?
Or is it just that they are not born
of earth and breath of God?

The stories speak of one, a seal in sea,
but woman on the earth,
who took for mate a human man,
learned of God, and took baptismal birth.
But once her husband died, they say,
returned unto the sea.

I wonder if, there within the deep,
a selkie sits and speaks of
Christ’s birth upon this day,
Leading even Fey upon His way.

I ponder this, but all alone,
Half listening for the music
from the woods.
The muse dictates to me these words,
demands her due
but still she knows that somewhere,
at a time unknown,
A babe was born.

That babe changed all the world,
and still brings hope
to those forlorn
and all alone.

A babe was born that blessed night,
so many years ago,
and still we sing “Noel, Noel”
tho seasons come and go.

A babe was born!
And angels all did sing
Glory to God on High
and Praises to our King.


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