The Flight into Egypt: December 28, for The Holy Innocents
By Bob Zisk
Icicles sparkle in moonlight,
Alleycats moan in the cold night.
Starlight pierces brittle ice.
Cold fire dances on banded gneiss,
And brittle breezes clarify cold air
Blowing through dried stalks of bristly hair.
The kids are all asleep.
The way to Egypt is fraught with danger.
Once more young mothers weep,
And strange gods smile on a stranger.



Lovely reflection on what must have been a scary journey!