Good News

A divine child was born just up the road.
A neighbor spent the good part of a morning
pondering what all of the signs meant.  Unseen
stars in the sky.  The sun rising a few minutes
earlier than the day before.  Temperature
above normal.  And a crow sitting in a nearby
branch overlooking the front door as if
keeping some sort of watch like a preacher
from a pulpit waiting to share some
good news about what this all may mean.

Cautious Steps

I return to writing these poems
not knowing what words mean;
written in journals decades old
or unveiling themselves new
on even brighter screens.

I do know that I disagree
with the notion that birth
is an exile from some
culminating experience
meant to last into the infinite.

Is G*d any less of a G*d
after the death of anyone?

Or, do the dance steps of the G*ds
become more frenzied as a birth nears?

I pause in my walk and count
those tender sounds tapping out
the letters to the word

We know that the whole creation has been groaning in labor pains until now. – Romans 8:22

First One,
Original Giver,
Primordial Cause,
how often have you groaned
in your labor pains?  In ours,
so many cries of infinite pain
for infinite wants meant to 
dazzle our souls for a brief
time.  Now, how will you
answer each and every one?