A Poem for the Eighth Day of Christmas
“Milk life for all it’s worth.”
It’s a strange phrase—
cruel in the
context of the metaphor.
Cruel too in our lives
we scarcely notice,
cramming eight days into seven,
pushing with no pull.
That last quarter ounce
isn’t just diminishing returns.
Eventually it spoils the whole gallon.
For the Twelve Days of Christmas, I’m making cut paper art. At least until multiplication gets the better of me.
Related Prayer
The Nativity of Our Lord: Christmas Day (BCP, Public Domain)
Almighty God, you have given your only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him, and to be born of a pure virgin: Grant that we, who have been born again and made your children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by your Holy Spirit; through our Lord Jesus Christ, to whom with you and the same Spirit be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.