Epiphany

The snow fills the air,
bright points of light
that vanish in a cold tingle
when they find their target.

A vixen pads quickly by,
through the Churchyard,
over the wall, into the brambles
where her warm earth lies waiting.

And we have come to celebrate.
We move the figures one final step.
Their journey now complete, they
kneel now before the manger throne.

There is Jesus, with Mary, Joseph,
angels, a cow, a worn donkey
with his stuffing coming out,
and, inexplicably, a giraffe.

The shepherds are there still,
for who would want to leave
so holy a place when they could stay
for just a few more days?

Mass is sung. Incense is offered.
The giraffe looks on,
bemused as always, and yet,
included, in this scene and story.

The vixen curled in her earth,
knows nothing of such bemusement,
and yet, for her too, this scene is set.
Her Creator has come!

Snow swirls, and drifts form.
At the Lychgate we bid one another
‘Happy Epiphany!’ And it is. For we too
have been to the manger throne.

Jesus, the giraffe, the Magi, and all
the figures will soon be put away.
Spring will come, and the vixen will
no longer run so quick to her earth.

We are forgetful, and we will forget,
at least forgetting the intensity
of this time. But we need
to remember.

So, one evening, when the air is
cooling once again, and night is
coming sooner than we like,
we will return to the crib scene.

Eagerly we will unpack it, like the
exited children we are still at heart.
We will laugh at the giraffe,
and intend, again, to mend the donkey.

The Magi will be put far away,
to move, but gradually.
And we will anticipate the adding of
Jesus, at Christmas.

And having assembled the scene,
we will toast the season, and sing a carol,
rekindling the light in our hearts, for we too
have knelt before the manger throne.