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across a strand
of gypsy sky –
back the way to wander
silver specs
remembered just one star
and distant nights
of ancient faith
men and cattle lowing
wondered at the light
became the light

miles and miles
within the truth
to find a baby waiting
forgiven not the witness
of a king
lowly as the meek would lay
held as love to promise
one day more than ever would
reasons to betray

a savior born
one winter morn
the first of all worth waiting
was innocence prepared
our hearts to see
one was come
the rest to know
the worst to pay for dying

silver spec
to glisten there
first gift of love

. . .

Author’s Note: Now and then, things happen when
we least expect them – a four-leaf clover nestled with another one,
the trust of a hand wrapped with ours, love returning us to a home we
never left.  Sometimes, little miracles become words. 

Sometimes, it’s as easy as a light through a morning fog.

Who cares that it’s not quite Christmas…