Trinkets and knickknacks!
Spilling under the tree.
Doodads and baubles
Glistening in green.
Gimcracks and trifles
Jingling and jumping.
Wrapping paper flying!
From the flurry of hands
And warm winter sleeves.
So gay and jolly!
As they give and receive
All the trinkets are swinging
And shining in the light.
*Yes I realise I should’ve posted this around Christmas, but oh well.
Come Lord, and lift the fallen bird
Abandoned on the ground;
The soul bereft and longing so
To have the lost be found.
The heart that cries—let it but hear
Its sweet love answering,
Or out of ether one faint note
Of living comfort wring.
This is one of my favourite poems by a contemporary poet. It is a breathtaking cry of compassion for a fallen creature, and metaphorically for ourselves. What do you think?
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