christmas eve day

a gypsy song of the road

long, dark road, long, weary trail,

shorten it, rom, with a christmas tale,

with a christmas tale of the little king's birth,

when caroling stars looked down on the earth.

tired horses and tired men

listen for the angels' song again;

listen for hosannas to fill the sky

while the night's dark road goes winding by.

hungry children, fallen asleep.

what of the shepherds and the watch they keep?

who will be first to reach the manger?

who look first on the new-born stranger?

heavy wheels turn; reins hang slack;

nell with her bill and jo with her jack;

eyes turned heavenwards, waiting to hear

the stars tell again what they saw that year.

that year of christmas when little king was born,

when orion shouted it from his seat at dawn;

when the roms from egypt traveled the world over,

searching for the stable wherein lay their saviour.

long, dark road, long, weary way,

campfires lighted at the end of day.

christ candle burning, wine to bless the sod;

lift a cup to little king, mary and god.

from ruth sawyer's the long christmas 

 making biscotti . .

 ironing the holiday linens . . 

 waiting for her second breakfast . . 

 morning poem . .