Held Sand

Jan Richardson paintedprayerbook.com

Jan Richardson paintedprayerbook.com

Sunday morning
A long quiet before dawn
The stable is empty once again
The sacred bustling bursting family
has found new room in the city
Shepherds out on the hills
Watch for wolves

Common stables
really are rather dull places
So sodden here & there where
the beasts over the recent days lay
smelling of a routine animalness
sour stench of shit & birth
soaked`up by straw

One thing for it
Throw open the shutters
And from the loft fork down
fresh straw to spread in the stalls
Fill mangers with sweet hay
Swab out all the buckets
Bring fresh water

What happened
in this so ordinary place
will forever be remembered
as the Miracle it was but cannot
be contained as in a shrine
Like sand held in hand
it runs on the tide


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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