Come, O Babe of Winter's Waiting

an accidental hymn

Come, O Babe
of Winter’s Waiting,
Share with us
Your Mother’s Breast.
Every doubt
and fear, abating,
swaddled in Love’s
Perfect Rest.

You, Who watch
us strain toward
healing; peering
through Eternal Eyes.
Bells announcing Hope
are pealing; Angels
sing from sequined skies.

Come, O Babe
of Nature’s sleeping.
Life stirs ‘neath
the cold, hard ground.
The Stealthy Spirit
in us creeping,
toward warm
Summerlands we’re bound.

You, Who hear us
in our sighing,
weary with the
cares of Earth.
All are babes
of Winter’s Dying;
Loved by Light
to sweet New Birth.

morning communte windshield: little wonders everywhere

After writing a poem, I immediately read it aloud to myself. It doesn't feel finished until I have spoken it. I think this comes from a time decades ago when I regularly participated in live poetry reading sessions in bookshops, libraries, and such. I think poetry is meant to be spoken and heard, not only read. 
When I read this poem aloud after writing it a few years ago, I realized that it can be sung to the tune of Come Thou Long Expected Jesus. If you are familiar with the melody of that hymn, give it a go! (Perhaps a new Solstice number for Tripoly, Elizabeth?!) 
Here's to happy accidents!
Blessings of Season and Soul to All,
Cheryl Anne