Coarse, chilly winds lift up unsettled snow,
Implanting flakes like seeds into the pores--
The ground gnaws. The snowflakes glow,
Like fallen stars, upon the wisemens’ course.
Impacience lead our travelers ahead
To seek the truth of a Holy Proclamation.
An in ovation, each bowes down his head;
A child is born, ‘tis time for celebration!
December twenty-fifth-- a sacred date!
It is a date for our descendants to remember!
A tender heart is born with a poet’s fate,
No other date such destiny could render!
A stroke of light upon the snowy canvas,
As though the twilight wrote an epilogue--
The cloak of darkness leaves four fading stanzas,
Picked up by Time, which wanders broke.
[This message has been edited by Master (edited 02-06-2000).]