Caspar Writes The Nativity

(Revised, again.  Some year I’ll get it right)

In the morning he thought Today I will have
two lunches but when he had the chance
he ordered a steak and cheese with a Pepsi
not a steak and cheese and a steak and cheese
with a couple of Pepsis to wash it all down.

Outside and after, under the sliver moon,
grey snow singing, the day a gentle tonic,
he, well-served and surely surfeited,
half-bagged in the now nearly knee-deep day,
wobbled, took to the wheel and headed home.

No one knew what awaited his arrival there,
least of all him, who, finding himself lost
in the last of the year’s shortest daylight,
early in the evening, turned his face,
moonish and lachrymal, lit by a laptop,
toward the windowpaned eastward hills
only to find a single star shining there,
where a plastic Bethlehem beckoned.

3 thoughts on “Caspar Writes The Nativity

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