December Sky

The darkness of  December's evening sky,
'Tis the perfect canvass for the hand of God,
Ethereal, tar-sands, taut across the heavens,
Swallows all in pitch, but will chose to laud,
One sweet sad portend, to make a spirit sigh.

And see the cloudy mist in the dark midnight,
Like a gassy film upon the swampy scum,
Back-lit as elusive Artemis, stalks the ages,
Then the curtain passes and hear the thrum,
Chords of soul's desire, plucked in lunar light.

Hosts of starry ghosts emerge the inky black,
Constellations clear their cadre for the advent,
Bright stars — the baby and angels in Gloria choir,
Boughs bend o'er skies like shepherd supplicants,
And I too, in quietness begin to feel my lack.

In the darkness of December's darkest hour,
The Brother to every son and daughter of man,
Born to us, the morning star, this Christmas morn,
Though the evil will pierce both foot and hand,
Fragile, yet brightly burns the love that will power,

Salvation.