Grace comes unexpectedly
In barns on bitter nights,
Ultimately ordinary
Lest we claim our rights.
Invisible to those who see,
A veil to those who know,
No miracle or mystery
Descends to us below;
Just immanence immaculate
Awake within our sleep,
Salient as a centipede
Out strolling on a heap,
Not strange enough to keep.

A Christmas poem…

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