He scrubbed the trough and filled it with fresh hay.
The midnight sky was bright and hard and raw;
The constellations danced above cold clay.
That night the heavens put on a display
That froze wise man and shepherd mute with awe.
He scrubbed the trough and filled it with fresh hay
And wondered how long they would have to stay
In Bethlehem fulfilling Caesar’s law.
That night the heavens put on a display
While Herod hoped the Magi would betray
The child sleeping snugly in the straw.
He scrubbed the trough and filled it with fresh hay,
Too cold and busy to kneel down to pray;
His fingers, stiff and wet, would need to thaw.
That night the heavens put on a display
While Joseph worked and watched as Mary lay
And nursed the baby. Sheep and oxen saw
He scrubbed the trough and filled it with fresh hay;
The constellations danced above cold clay.
—Mary-Patrice Woehling
