14 December 2012
Angel of Evil descend not on this sunlit town in early morning.
In corridors at school the shuffling of boots,
Jackets bunched tight together on hooks, still warm,
Busy hands adjusting at desks.
First graders not yet up to the day,
The bell has rung, their teacher greets them, hovering.
Toward the windowsill sidelong glances: the candle, the wreath.
Their Christmas nearing. Still so new at six.
Be merciful angel, do not alight. Stay winged, pass on over.
Collected Poems 23