Mary at Midnight, the Babe in Her Arms
Mary at midnight, the babe in her arms:
Ever the myth makes its way to the heart.
Reason gives way to desire and art,
Rendered quite mute by the quake of its qualms.
Yes, of course there are angels filling the sky!
Choirs of angels - how could there not be?
Heavenly hosts like a luminous sea
Rejoicing as God comes to Earth from on high!
Is this true? I mean really? As true as my thumb?
Sense has a way of making no sense.
The value of each soul needs a defense.
Maybe a sign can be more than a sum.
Angels sing daily as humans do ill.
So sing with them! Sing! Of peace and good will!
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon