Epiphany. In Latin it meant coming. But in our house, it has come to mean going. January sixth is the day we traditionally untrim the tree and undeck the halls.

     It’s a tradition based more on practical considerations than any spiritual content. By the twelfth day of Christmas, the tree is barely taking in any of its water and is quickly giving up its needles. The holiday visitors have already come and seen the house decorated. And as thoughts turn to the activities of the new year, Christmas items begin to be an anachronism.

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traffic tied in knotted snarls
stores filled with bustling elbows
rushing pushing
Emmanuel

streets, slick with dried oak leaves
air brisk
cold sleety drizzle
God With Us

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He ran the streets of Nazareth,
played and fell, skinned his knees,
climbed tamarisk trees,
picked fresh figs to eat
just like his brothers.

He sat and read and wondered,
asked his mother questions
about the sky, wind, and foxes,
and how he was born
just like his brothers.

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Before the clocks of time began to tick
before the Son saw shadows on the earth
he saw his birth in Bethlehem
and told his prophets so.
But did he know that stable cold would make
his thin unswaddled legs begin to shake
that hunger pangs would make his tummy hurt
and riding on a donkey all the way
to Egypt he’d get cranky?
Did he know that?

When he made all the wonders of the world,
he heard his father say it was good.
But did he know he’d laugh rolling on the grass
giggle as pomegranate juice ran down his chin
or smile, watching two young lovers take their vows?
Did he know that?

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Another baby boy was born
in Bethlehem that Christmas morn.
His birth, no angel choir told.
No royal wise men brought him gold
or myrrh or frankincense to hold.

The searching shepherds would have found
no manger here; but all around
the little one, a family stood
and marvelled how the Lord God should
have blessed them with a gift so good.

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