but you came

if you came in the spring,
we could expect newness,
bright flowers
to soften your path,
the songs of birds
to herald your coming:

but you came
in winter's despair,
the chill of complacency
settled upon us.

if you came in the summer,
we could expect you
to be bronzed,
blonde,
stepping from the sea:

but you came
in a stable
a wrinkled baby
with animals for midwives,
and angels your playmates.

help us to set down
our parcels of expectations
to reach down and scoop
you up in our arms,

your laughing breath
giving us life.

Amen.

(c) Thom M. Shuman