Child of the Night

by Holly Woolley

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    Child

    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

    Except,

    In lighted

    Sky

    And whisper

    Of a father’s tender

    Murmur of His name,

    “Jesus.”

    The morning breaks

    In quiet sigh and fame;

    A dark and sleeping

    World awakes

    To never be

    The same.