Advent

The snow is coming,
a few flakes tumbling over the windshield,
fallen from the sculpted iron sky.
The news precipitates portents,
the fall and rise of presidents.
Clouds on the horizon swell with ominous predictions.
the Son of God threatens,
His arrival imminent, some say.

Christmas looms
when we turn the telescope back
to focus on a Bethlehem farm
seeking signs,
trying to resolve details—
the animals gathering,
the frightened shepherds stumbling down the hills,
camels shuffling across dunes
with their wise burdens,
following a star where one shouldn’t be.

The Lord is seeking too—
weak hearts that crave courage,
cold spirits longing for love
darkened lands desiring
the reign of righteousness.
He looks for empty sheds
where He can make his home with us.

The Lord is coming soon,
His Advent near.
And the Spirit is casting words to the wind,
waiting for someone to hear.


—Eric Nelson