The Magi arrive and Christmas is packed away in a shoebox:
fragile snowflakes lie alongside stars
and Mary protects her precious child
from the oversized woolly bee in a Santa hat.
The donkey is wrapped up tight in a paper towel
to avoid his head falling off again like last year and
the lid is balanced on top and all are still
as they are lifted high on a shelf to bide their time.
And I will go back to work and back to routine,
back to the busyness which threatens to squeeze out
the wonder and the possibility of miracles:
our creator born in human flesh.
The Magi arrive and kneel in awe as they perceive
hidden in the ordinary, wrapped up in the mundane
in a toddler child in a far-off town, a precious gift
of joy and hope for all people and all time.
And will my eyes stay open to discern
my God at work on earth throughout the year?
Will he break through the day-to-day routine
to bless me and delight me if I do?
Will I then gaze at him and treasure him
as did those visitors of yesteryear?
And can I nurture him, as Mary did,
that he might live and grow and work right here?
© Jo Kudlacik 6th Jan 2024
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