by Mary Daurio
mulled wine
Born as a babe, they know.
Care of the world and time dim the memory.
Down they tumble into adulthood.
Even then, they can know the love of God.
Far out in the enchanted forest lives an emerald fir tree.
Going through the woods one day, a girl no longer a child and not yet an adult finds that tree.
High up to the sky, the branches lift their praise.
In the boughs, multitudes of chorale birds nests remain hidden.
Just beyond the girl’s reach.
Kneeling at the base of the tree in the snow, she sees a bark-covered box.
Little wisps of wind conduct music faint and sweet.
Many designs and magical marks adorn the wooden case.
No mortal man has seen or touched the magnificent chest.
Omnipotent light dances from cracks in the wood with sweet splendour.
Pondering what to do, the girl stands back and admires the chest.
Questions arise in her mind.
Reaching softly, she puts one finger on the box.
Somehow warmth fills her, and she is in awe.
Time passes, but she is unafraid, as a gentle calm saturates her soul.
Up to the tree, crisp, pure white snow creeps while close to the container flowers bloom.
Very beautiful blossoms in glorious array adorn the ground.
What is she to do?
Xmas, the advent of Christ's birth, is but days away, and to her to carton looks like a present.
You are to open it; a majestic voice whispers in the wind.
Zion opens all around, and bright light adorns the treetop while angels and birds sing, glory to,
THE NEWBORN KING!
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