We stand in the field where the shepherds stood,
But cannot see the wonders they beheld--
The angel’s sunburst might, the joyous shout,
Nostrils and mouth full of burning bush smoke,
The cold wind that tossed their hair--warmed their skin.
We are not convinced that God is with us.
Yet every common thing sings Gloria--
The loving hands that hold another’s hands,
The taste of cold water, warm buttered bread,
Smell of thawing soil under last year’s leaves,
Wind-balancing bird in the silver sky,
The foot-beat song of childhood jump rope rhymes.
The signs are there for those with hands to feel,
For those with ears to hear, with eyes to see.
