On The Third Day of Advent

It's been a while since I posted original poetry here on the blog. Thirty minutes spent in a closet with a labrador retriever is a good occasion to return to free verse. I hope each of you are well in the waiting this Advent season. As always, I wish you all good things!

On The Third Day of Advent

Between the suitcases

And unpacked nativities

Of a walk-in closet,

I sat with my dog.

His spotted ears rose

With each wail of a siren

Crying in the north Mississippi wilderness:

There might be a tornado near.

There might not be a tornado near.

The sky was a shade of dark blue

When the meteorologist said,

"Go to your safe place,"

No rain fell.

No wind howled.

Still, we hid

With a toy turkey

Whose playful squeak

Would not drown the listening

For the train-like sound

That might or might not be.

Still, we played

In the midst of mystery,

Angels gazing at us

From plastic storage containers

With unsleeping eyes.

On my phone's tiny screen

I watched a video

Of fires raging in Tennessee.

I read an article

Of buildings crumbling in Syria.

How far could the angels' watch reach?

Would the baby in the manger

Unwrap himself from the tissue paper

And rise from the storage closet

To save us all?

Still, we emerged

From the 'safe place'

To an unscathed home

And a quiet land

While the fires kept burning

The wars kept rising

The baby kept sleeping

The angels kept watching

And the people kept praying,

Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Come.