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Poem: “The Mule”


Purple, purple,
Purple, pink,
In evergreen
The candles sink.

Candle’s age?
One thousand yeared,
With four four-thousand
‘Fore He appeared.

Each Sunday four
In front of Yule
When she arrived
Upon a mule.

A revolution
Round the stall,
Till suddenly
On knees were all!

Like priest incensing
Hallowed altar
To bear her Son
All kneel, none falter.

Firm, determined,
With veins of gold,
Great stubborn priest!

 Hilary M. Flanery