Snowflakes fall in my hand before fading,
enticing moments of contemplation.
So. . .Today is Christmas.
I should as myself, ‘What does it mean?’
I know every lecture that I’ve been instructed.
What to believe. . .what Christmas is about.
But. . .To be honest. . . I’m only human.
Frankly, I feel like a child tonight.
So, if I can find respite from lessons;
To just lay in this manger and be calm.
Because it’s God, but it’s just a baby. . .
Giving, not rebuke, but joy. . . peace. . .and love. . .
© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.