Sunset, Christmas Eve
Light's nearly gone
bare trees flare gold
sun descends,
day turns cold.
Old world ends
in a brilliant flash
but from the east
hope springs at last
fresh from a child
drawing first breath,
and the tawdry cycle
of night and day,
the hopelessness
of fear and hate
new love overwhelms
as new day begins
with first holy breath
of God-infant.
poem by Steven Federle
Added by Poetry Lover
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