David Hines (hradzka) wrote,
David Hines
hradzka

APED: "no room at the inn"

The donkey chewed hay that was stale and was old.
But it was indoors, and out of the cold,
and if it was crowded -- well, that's no sin.
It's happened before, with no room at the inn.

He'd even once seen the birth of a child,
by a woman, alone, her eyes dark and wild,
her belly was large, but her cheeks were grown thin.
Life everywhere's hard, and no room at the inn.

But the stars come around, and sometimes they shine,
and the smallest of things turns the world.
And donkeys bear witness to doings divine,
and the smallest of things turns the world,
and the smallest of things turns the world.

And this birth goes well, and the mother is strong,
and the baby is born, and his cry is a song,
and he lies, small and red, by her breast, on her skin
And they don't seem to mind there's no room at the inn.

And the kings come around, with purpose sublime,
and the smallest of things turns the world,
and donkeys bear witness to doings divine,
and the smallest of things turns the world,
and the smallest of things turns the world.
Tags: a poem every day
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