Months later, with the seed of God
rounding her belly with promise,
I wonder, was Mary restless at night,
her back aching, and soft stirrings
waking her from slumber?
Elizabeth understood, better than
a man. When they got together,
and the cousins in their wombs leaped
towards each other, quivering
with recognition, what hopes and dreams
did the mothers share? Did they guess
the end of the story for their sons?
For us?
And young as mary, old as Elizabeth,
woman or man, don't we each long to
feel the seed of God shifting within us,
a guarantee of now and future glory?
Christmas 2019
