I see the boxes ‘neath a verdant tree,
Of size and corners, of soft and flat.
Of tiny bows and licked envelopes.
Near are socks pinned to the mantle
Empty, gaping, hungry for the treats of Christmas Eve.
One question remains.
Good or bad? Worthy or not?
Will favor extend till Christmas morn?
Or with harsh words or one false step
This bounty quick be shorn?
Tiny, faceless, serene nearby
A wooden manger scene. A Prince of Peace.
One given and never recalled.
Given for liars and lonely, good and bad.
Given a bounty for hearts who will believe.
And behold, a gift again,
Peace on earth, goodwill to men.
This Peace eternal
Not as the world gives. Not for reciprocating or to the worthy.
Not wrapped or hidden
In a name, in a babe.
Through a Prince who knew no peace.
Spread to me before assailant and foe.
Peace, a feast.
Amid green meadows, still waters.
This verdant tree will wither.
Gifts peeled, received or returned.
Praise the Prince! This giver of Peace!
Not as the world gives
But for the eternal enjoyment of my soul.