Child of the Night

Of the night and hushed
Majesties of light.
Cool evening breeze
And single cry,
A mother’s tender arms
And eyes …
Unspoken grace adorns
Crude stable hay and
Humble cloth.
A King is born
In quiet manger
Without pretence
Or display …
No jeweled crown
Nor fame is found
In lighted
And whisper
Of a father’s tender
Murmur of His name,
The morning breaks
In quiet sigh and fame;
A dark and sleeping
World awakes
To never be
The same.