Christmas Scene

So what is different The vagrant limps across the careening snow Scantily unkempt From inside the bank with glittering glass I watched him pass Carried by the flow Of that dilapidated mass For whom tolls the jingling bell And toll, and toll ignored again My heart Shunning the superficial cheer Left all I heard Devoted to a pilgrimage of eyes Where the fire glows warm And hope gathers moth-like I see him push, and pushing through Put out his arms to touch the tired flame As though an angel had troubled it Or perhaps a rudimentary manger And Christ so far from it While he sleeps secure on warm On the bank floor Under the beautiful Christmas tree. I walked away Full of grief and empty While behind me toll, and toll again The jingling bells of the Salvation Army. O Mary, hail us not as Joseph in this despair Nor magnify too much your feat He too has swollen and blistered feet And I volatile from the pilgrimage Ask questions of my faith Tell me, for all the change from manger to cross, What is different now from then?