How beautiful
to see leaves
of gold
trapped underneath
panes of ice
frosted
by the breath
of the world.

The beauty and the pain:
Cold pierces like a knife.
Overhead
a thousand snow geese call
and fly
in uniform motion,
their brawny wings
carving the air.

At your cradle here I stand
Neither shepherd nor angel
But onlooker
To holy mystery.

Hillside cave is the darkroom,
Heaven’s aperture,
Breathing life
From image into likeness.

Eve knows what she lost
When she tasted the plum,
Red juice staining her hand,
But Mary’s consent brings salvation.

At the cradle here I stand
Where the Child’s birth
Transforms our darkness into light
Like carbon transfigured into diamond.

Immortal fire, pierce this darkness.