I’m waiting like a child on Christmas Eve,
waiting for dawn to show me that the snow
is finally here. It’s falling, I believe,
but I’ll need more of morning light to know.
I’m waiting on the dawn to make the snow
reveal itself against the row of pines.
I need a minute more of light to know
it’s snow that’s coming down in blurred white lines
revealed against the row of darker pines.
I’m praying that it hasn’t turned to rain—
it’s snow that’s coming down in blurred white lines.
I’m counting on the snowstorms that remain
and praying that it hasn’t turned to rain.
The snow is here. It’s falling, I believe.
I’m counting down the snowstorms that remain
and waiting like a child on Christmas Eve.
—Robert W. Crawford
YOU MIGHT ALSO LIKE
Vatican II Didn’t Kneel to Modernity
In his weekly catecheses on Vatican II, Pope Leo is now discussing Gaudium et Spes, one of…
No Right to Erase Baptism
Is baptism an irreversible spiritual and ontological change or a piece of recorded personal data to be…
The Church in the Age of Therapy
In 1966, Philip Rieff wrote in The Triumph of the Therapeutic that “Religious man was born to…
