Fourth Sunday of Advent

The warm evening breeze
nudges the dry grass
and encourages the ceder leaves
to whisper.
The stars seem closer
softer and more familiar.
And the moon
full-faced and smiling.

The hill is crested
and the flock rejoined.
Silence falls
and soon companions sleep.

But I lie awake
remembering angels.

This shall be a sign unto you.
We sought and found him.
A baby
wrapped in swaddling cloths
and lying in a manger.

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