Agape in Motion
He has a mouth shaped like that of the Dalai Lama.
He will labor on into the dark.
Someone must fill the need,
wares will not make themselves.
He has silver hair–too long and unruly.
He will heap sacks onto the moonlit sleigh.
Children want to believe until the end,
never is there a good time for innocence to fell.
He has about him a scent of nutmeg and pine.
He will pull the load true and fair.
Men laugh at this once-held legend,
but a mere fleck of this faith does transport.
He has failing sight which glasses can’t correct.
He will not sway ‘till every roof top is skimmed.
Village and lane may lie silent and still,
but agape is always in motion and lives.
Brenda Bishop Blakey
The words in bold are from The SundayWhirl . Thanks, Brenda W.