A light in the East?
A light in the eyes?
Children's laughter and glad surprise?
At the crest of the curving weeks
Is it one still day?
Journey's end at an Inn
and a place to stay?
A star? A candle?
A jewelled tree?
A symbol? A trust?
The past, or things to be?
Is it love's clasped hands?
Or the call to come
in spirit or flesh
to the hearths of home?
Is it earth? Is it heaven?
Is it pages ended or begun?
Christmas is all these.
All these are one.

Norah Boehme