pic by JB: my 2017 Crib
Purple tears are the leaves
after the autumn’s gold in the wood.
I look at the frost coming down to
the world, that quickly runs to the solstice
The leaves drip to the ground like my days
in the gardens now soaked with winter.
I pray that Something want now return
in the Advent, when life can reborn
My crib is still awaiting a Child,
strange king who gives Himself to the people.
I’m the one who sleeps showing her back
the one You come to save