A thief.
Small he was, a mouse is all
cowering down in the long hall,
eating knowledge, gnawing words
of men and gods and birds.
Small he was, but growing now,
a fox some how, hunted in the field
and ditch by dog and bitch.
Stealing from……..
the barns of men, geese and hens
until then
a boy.
Small
And naked in the early snow,
born low, but rising now
to the glow of a morning star
that hangs on…
hills afar. A dream of earth
a virgin birth
Small.
© Dave Kavanagh 2016
We live in a world where even the most extraordinary events are reduced to insignificance by our multimedia society
