A Season’s Rising

by Noreen A. Haws

Lord, I woke up slowly today

And rose, resentful,

Wished to stay

And pass my labor, hard and long.

I tired, sore and far from strong

But Lord, you tired, as I recall

When those around you could easily see

And yet you stood for a child as I

And said, “Suffer [them] to come unto me.”

And once you were a child yourself

Searching for a place to sleep

And so, Lord, I will rise today

To fill the mangers in my keep.