by Wilda Morris
Just another manger
for the innkeeper, he thought
as he hollowed out the wood,
made the indentation deep
wide, solid enough for cattle
or donkeys to feed from.
Just another manger,
but he’d been taught
to always do his best
no matter how meager the task.
His father always said
whatever you make
will bear your mark.
He cut the wood carefully,
made it sturdy,
sanded it smooth,
splinterless, built it
with as much care
as if it had been a throne
for a king.
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