ADVENT II
The year the tree fell:
Little bits of brittle angels
all over the floor,
bent up boxes,
and torn paper.
I cut myself a dozen times
on sparkly slivers of broken balls.
* * *
The year the tree falls:
No pastoral night nativities
No gentle carpenter
hung on boards.
This time,
Advent comes on horseback
and the angels will be armed.
H. Edgar Hix
This poem was taken from InterVarsity’s webpage, Student Soul. If you liked it, try this evening prayer taken from Valley of Vision.
And Merry Christmas from Redeemedreader!
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