The First Sunday of Advent

There were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them...

The desert's dusty breath
gathers, swirls burning embers
like fireflies.
A twig cracks like a bone in the darkness.
Nearby, whispers.
The sound of a cloak pulled
close in the coldness.
Then a hushed, still silent nothing.
And that was the moment
when the world ended.
The ages burnt away
by angel songs.

This entry was posted by Richard Beck. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply