Okay, you know I don't go for overly-cute. Puppies and kittens and chain letters threatening angel attack and all that are not for me. I saw this at my mom's this afternoon, though. Maybe it's the dark. Maybe it's because I have some boys. I don't know . . . I liked it.
Mary,
When Jesus was a boy did he
Swing on the gates of Galilee,
Bring home foundling pups
And kittens,
Scuff his sandals, lose his mittens,
Weight his pocket with treasure
Adult eyes can never measure,
Scratch his hands and stub his toes
On rocky hills where cactus grows,
Set stones and quills and bits of thread
On the windowsill beside his bed
So that on waking he could see
All yesterday's bright prophecy?
Did he play tag with the boys
Next door,
Tease for sweets in the grocery store,
Whittle and smooth a spinning top
In his father's carpenter shop,
Run like wind to sail his kites,
Smile and sigh in his sleep at night,
Laugh with you in long-lost springs
About a thousand small, endearing
Things?
Is he the one who said that you
Should always dye your dresses blue?
With eyes bright as cinnamon silk,
Red lips ringed with a mist of milk
Did he . . . lifting his earthen cup
Say, "Just wait until I grow up?"
Mary O'Neill
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