I'm weary, Lord.
Bone tired.

In spite of the fact that my shopping's half done
I need to crash.
The crush
of the crowd has gotten to me.
So, too, the deafening sounds
of a pre-Christmas city
throbbing with incarnate greed.

I need to be reminded
that this season's more
than plastic Santas,
perpetual sales,
and Muzak.

I need back
on the track
of reflection.
I've derailed, Lord.
My emotional fuel is leaking.
I'm about to explode.

And then I see it.
A miniature creche
in a gift shop window.

A guardian father;
a grateful young mom;
a baby asleep on the hay.
A trio maintaining their harmony
despite the discord all around them.

And with my nose pressed against the frosted pane
my inner pain subsides.
At once I am rested,
renewed, and revived.

And I linger
and ponder
God's peace.