Sunset, Christmas Eve

Light's nearly gone
bare trees flare gold

sun descends,
day turns cold.

Old world ends
in a brilliant flash

but from the east
hope springs at last

fresh from a child
drawing first breath,

and the tawdry cycle
of night and day,

the hopelessness
of fear and hate

new love overwhelms
as new day begins

with first holy breath
of God-infant.

poem by Steven Federle
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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