Who before Giotto thought
to remove the king’s crown—
this first from the earth’s
kingdoms come to worship.
Giotto paints Him shrouded,
the swaddled solemn babe,
dressed for His burial—
getting right to the point.
And they were the best kings
could offer, these tokens
for the One who came
forgiving everything.
The mother reclines on
her side; hovering foster
father accepts the trio;
Angels watch: ox, ass, us.
Dear Reader,
Can I be direct with you?
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