Yet
I look east on Christmas Eve morning.
The skies, marbled gray and bitterly cold
will not let the morning sun through.
Yet the sun will shine again.
We are wrapped in winter,
frozen by icy winds,
mummified in layers of blankets.
Yet the days will warm again.
Families are broken,
despair threatens.
Yet laughter will return again.
Days trudge on,
frustrations mount.
Yet.
Yet we are ready--
a tree stands, tinsled and gilded,
gifts pile expectantly,
Christmas cantatas wait to be sung,
and our hearts,
sprinkled with mercy,
buoyed by hope,
confess yet again:
Hodie Christus natus est.
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