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A BABY IN THE BARN
November, ah November
You edge up close to stars,
Mangers, and wise men on camel backs;
Gifted men in mind and heart.
Layers of dessert dust,
Coating the feet of beast and men;
No burdens too heavy to carry,
For such is the weight of majesty.
A stone, thrown for miles of earthly measure,
Rest at the door of an inn;
Awaiting guest to the barn,
Where animals witness in hay and humility.
The first cries from a baby’s throat,
Not of their kind, but oh so blessed;
To share the future right there,
When man and beast will reside in peace.
A BABY IN THE BARN © gillena cox 2017
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