First Light
by
Stephen Leake

 

 

Away from the house, the star is reluctant.
Pushed from its window of sky.
It stalls at the morning’s shelf, letting
Fabled light open history. Again.

Tardily, it drops its gifts.
-Modest opulence brimming with season-
Its warmth, a glass spirit held in the hand.

And, as the day is made special with prayer
It will fall. Fall back to its dream. There
It will sing. Unwrapping the day
With its presence.

 


Especially written for Christmas Time by Stephen Leake

Copyright © Stephen Leake. All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of author.


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