Met

 The promise made, ages old.

Thought of as a story, a myth.

Something to dream of which

Never comes, in a lifetime.

Here they meet, in a small babe.

What is it to be born into such

Hope, promise, signs and wonders?

How can the tiny star generate

Its small light to shine out years?

We meet it each Christmas.

Our hope, wonder, our fear it is

All too fleeting and intangible.

Can we pin down the wonder?

Can we stack up the hope?

So fear doesn't creep in?

Or are they to meet, tangled

In the mystery born in the 

Wonder of dirt and snow.