Child of the Night

by Holly Woolley

Child

Of the night and hushed

Majesties of light.

Cool evening breeze

And single cry,

A mother’s tender arms

And eyes …

Unspoken grace adorns

Crude stable hay and

Humble cloth.

A King is born

In quiet manger

Without pretense

Or display …

No jeweled crown

Nor fame is found

Except,

In lighted sky

And whisper

Of a father’s tender

Murmur of His name,

“Jesus.”

The morning breaks

In quiet sigh and fame;

A dark and sleeping

World awakes

To never be

The same.

(December 1981, p. 51.)