Stable Song
And then Mary fell asleep.
Pale with the weary journey and her labour (After months of fears her faith rewarded By a baby more perfect than she knew), She wrapped her maybe blue cloak about her, Curled in the straw like a cat, Sighed in contentment, and slept.
Soothed by her steady breathing, Joseph nodded. A long walk for an older man, What with the worry as well, And then the visitors.
Now, safely delivered and warm, He leaned his back against a rough hewn wall And closed his eyes.
Wakeful, the new-created baby Watches the world, his own, his old creation: Helpless omnipotence.
His swaddled hands cannot reach out To dandle with his own star's silver gleamings. Wide-eyed, and watched by animals and angels, He sees what is, what was, and what shall be.
Lindsay Staniforth
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