Poetry

by Susan Savage


To Me

To those who dwelt in tents
In the wilderness—
A curious ball
Of fine workmanship.
And to wise men who waited
And watched—
A star!
And to wandering Israel—
A cloud by day
And a pillar of fire
By night.
And to me—
A prophet,
And a still, small voice.

[photo] Photo by Eldon Linschoten

In All I Do

I didn’t say
I love you
today,
But I smiled at an old man
who looked lonely.
He took my hand
in his unraveled mitten
And asked that God might bless me.
I knew he was giving me
a far greater gift
than the tinsel-wrapped boxes
under the tree.
He had nothing else to give.
I thanked him for his kindness
and wished him a Merry Christmas.
He walked away
taller and straighter than before.
I didn’t say
I love you
today,
But an old man knows
I do.