The Real Thing
It’s Christmas morning in
southwest Colorado,
but it looks more like a
foggy day in London.
The black, bare trees with
their scraggly limbs reach down
as if they want to grab an
unsuspecting person off the street.
Despite the scene outside
looking like a horror movie,
inside the merry and
bright blue, green, red, yellow
glowing lights on the Christmas
tree and down the hallway
reflect an inner truth—While
the crocheted baby Jesus
lies in a yarn straw with
crocheted Mary and Joseph nearby,
I cradle the real thing,
His Holy Spirit, in my heart.
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