first advent

A Child in a foul stable,
Where the beasts feed and foam;
Only where He was homeless
Are you and I at home;
We have hands that fashion and heads that know,
But our hearts we lost – how long ago!
In a place no chart nor ship can show
Under the sky’s dome.

keepsake – a poem by Milton Brasher-Cunningham

[This week, SSU was blessed with a visit from author/chef/blogger, Milton Brasher-Cunningham, who gave a short reading and chat at lunch. This is a poem from his new book, Keeping the Feast]

keepsake

there are some nights
when the sky turns
the color of friendship
and fades into the crisp
darkness of gratitude
we ate with friends
drank and talked as well
and then walked away
dropping bits of hope
like breadcrumbs
along the sidewalks
and silent porches
finding our way home
to our porch light
our beacon of belonging
summer will come
and winter will follow
and footprints will fade
but not this indelible
wisp of memory

by Milton Brasher-Cunningham, from Keeping the Feast