No trumpets blaring
No drums snaring
Only silence greets
A homeless pair
Looking for shelter.
A crude barn
With a cow looking out
A pile of hay
On which they could lay
But soon a sound
Woke the world thundering
The birth of God’s son
Born while we’re wondering
What this meant for us
We poor ignorant cousins
Looking for hope
Of some kind to keep us
Safe from evil of a world gone mad
THE YEARS IN BETWEEN
He worked for his dad
Drove the Pharisees mad.
Looked for a reason to live
Found it in his willingness to give.
Leading friends to the sea,
Where he set them free
To follow his lessons,
To teach all to love one another
Child, Father and Mother.
But he found trouble in hate
He was destined to choose his fate
Of death on a hill.
He had work to do still.
When he came out of the tomb
Into a different room,
The disciples believed
The world was relieved,
He found us at last
Our troubles forgiven and past,
DEATH ON A HILL
He climbed that hill,
Knowing what he would find
That his guide on that climb
Had something in mind.
A Roman soldier with spear at the ready
Kept up with him
Walking slow and steady.
The morning sun shone bright
He continued to fight
Until mid day.
Three hours later
What can we say?
A man hung dying,
In a tomb soon to stay
But he outwitted them all
All men large or small
His father let Him go
To save us from woe.
AMEN
Jane P. Neale12/23/11
