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The Third Christmas Poem
Two in the morning, and the long drive home from an afternoon and night of Christmas Eve liturgies, the air is bitterly cold as my car and I climb the long, steep hill out of the Minnesota River Valley of Tears to our home fifteen minutes away. Dreams of our warm bed, and three hours of sleep, before awakening and doing it all over again, dominate my thoughts during the long drive home. I think of you at work in the nursing home, watching over the residents in your care, as the shepherds once watched over their flocks in the deepness darkness of night in Palestine over two thousand years ago. As I reach the crest of the hill, and climb out on the barren plateau, the light from the full moon glistens off the frozen surface of snow covered corn fields. The moonlight reflecting off the snow is as bright as the light of a noon day sun. Enraptured by this brilliant light high on the frozen plateau, I turn off my headlights and drive only by the moonlight, experiencing the epiphany of the Magi, as they traveled by a similar light from the Star of Bethlehem.
Copyright © 2024 Robert Wagner. All Rights Reserved

Book: Shattered Sighs