At my age, I seldom hear reindeer in the night.
The wise and the wondrous, in search of the Christ child, pass my door by.
No crying here. It’s as it should be.
My eye swims in miracles, my neurons hum Handel,
and I am nothing special.
Far from the cradle, close enough to Heaven
the angels know where to reach me
in a pinch.
I have it easy.
I never have to crane my neck too much to watch the stars take their places.
Let me come to the little children. On my knees
amongst glorious gizmos and treasured characters,
let me serve those who serve joy.
If you would bring a rapping to my door, friends,
bless you. Come with the spirit of the Shamash candle,
remind me that if I give myself away seven times,
on the eighth day there would be enough light
For tradition to hold, and travelers to make their way.