Quiet anticipation of the promise of more
A promise of something new, being made
Free, a peaceful hush falls and we spend
Just a few mad weeks in celebration
Making it wild and noisy and the promise
Is forgotten, faded in a memory because
We don't need peace, or freedom, or love
Come down into our midst in the humblest
Of forms, entrusted to poor people, born
In the filth and smell of the barn not
In the richest home, but in amongst the
animals with all the love a heart can hold
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