LUCAS
child of light,
come forth on christmas morn
the throes of birth now o’er
calm, asleep, lost in dream
tired, joyful mother
father not understanding yet
the earth has moved.
child arrives
to Yuletide feast
hush is in the room
babe held in wonder
passed from hand to hand
no name to call him yet
so small, so perfect
improbably dressed
soft pink skin
sweet newborn smell
blue eyes
tiny fingers
wisps of red blonde hair
first days and weeks
child aglow with life
movement comes
eyes open
to see the world around
a smile appears
he learns his mother’s voice
his father’s caring arms
dog’s wet-kiss tongue
and countless loving hands
whole family
welcomes the new child
rise above itself
sees now a future beyond
so many lives betouched
another generation begins.
W. Milne
February 2016