Advent II
A Christmas poem
Advent II
The year the tree fell:
Little bits of brittle angels
all over the floor,
bent up boxes,
and torn paper.
I cut myself a dozen times
on sparkly slivers of broken balls.
The year the tree falls:
No pastoral night nativities
No gentle carpenter
hung on boards.
This time,
Advent comes on horseback
and the angels will be armed.
H. Edgar Hix
[a poem from Student Leadership journal]