The crunch of snow sifts through the
quiet moon night, footsteps sure of the path.

A small candle burns cupped inside
a clay-fired bowl formed from earth.

I make my way this long dark night
under bare limbed trees of winter.

Kneeling. I nestle the heart light into
crisp white snow. I await this eve for

rebirth, not the sweet babe innocent of its
journey mewing  for mother’s milk.

I wait in the cold bone chilling to feel his
breath within, mixing with mine, becoming one.

Author’s Note:

As the days of Advent draw to a close and Christmas day nears, I find my poetry becoming sparse. Less to say and more space for listening.

You may read my previous poems from this Advent:

Manifest  Advent/Dusk

Honeycomb   Advent/Noon

Convergence  Advent/Dawn

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