The old man stroked his beard Bent low over his texts Eyes grown dimmer
Outside workmen are finishing some project The hammer blows seem loud as thunder A shudder runs through him with each blow He recalls a journey long ago Mile on mile Sore foot weary camels Frankincense gold and myrrh Chasing a singular star
Today the stars show at midday The sun is eclipsed He wonders what it means Bowed low over his books Eyes grown dimmer A shudder runs through him
Published April 19 on the Ancient Paths Facebook page.