Nativity
In midnight fields we eating, bleating sheep
(and some asleep) pursued our ovine way
as shepherds rudely passed the time till day
its shining rays above the hills should peep.
When of a sudden in the sky so steep
a thing with wings all shiny silver-grey
so frightened us we nearly ran astray
and lo, our watchers cowered all aheap.
A human babe was born the wing-thing said
and singing wing-things through the night sky swam.
Our shepherds being practicable men,
brought us to see: a manger for a bed
it had and smelled, the ewes said, like a lamb
that’s taken off and never seen again.
No Family to Speak Of
No family to speak of, yet I make
My reasonably cheery way among
The holidays. The proper songs get sung
And here and there I manage to partake
Of nog and grog, perhaps a little cake,
And when the midnight bells have duly rung,
I call to mind how angels blithely sprung
From heaven to announce that for our sake
A baby all wrapped up against the cold
Was quite important; was, in fact, a king
Whose only taxes were the debts of love.
He was, they said, the one the prophets told
About, the one they said Who joy would bring
To those who had no family worth speaking of.
Jeffrey Essmann is an essayist and poet living in New York. His poetry has appeared in numerous magazines and literary journals, among them Agape Review, America Magazine, Dappled Things, the St. Austin Review, U.S. Catholic, Grand Little Things, Heart of Flesh Literary Journal, and various venues of the Benedictine monastery with which he is an oblate. He is editor of the Catholic Poetry Room page on the Integrated Catholic Life website.
I love that you’ve written “Nativity “ from the sheep’s point of view! “Wing-things” sounds like exactly what they would call angels!
And the point of view in “No Family” is an original one which few would have thought of, and quite moving. Beautiful sonnets, Jeffrey!
No Family to Speak Of … beautiful, comforting.
Happy social, ecclesial, and monastic Christmas, Jeffrey! You know how to celebrate quite charmingly with no family to speak of. And your sheep have come up with a clever term for “angel.” Otherwise, they know all the vocabulary relating to themselves and their shepherds, even the Latinate “ovine.” Moreover, they enjoy an excellent command of English syntax and a real feel for alliteration and internal rhyme. Reminds me of my mother’s conviction that animals gained the ability to speak at midnight on Christmas Eve. May your own twelve days of the season resound with creative fervor!
I love both these pieces, but “Nativity” is inspired – original, entertaining and moving in its animal innocence. The last two lines hit me right between the eyes. I’d like to add that, at this time of year especially, some of us make a point of thinking of those with “No Family to Speak Of”. Wishing you a very happy Christmas, Jeffrey.
Thanks so much, all. A very Merry Christmas to you!!!
To give credit where it’s due: “Nativity” was written one summer while I was on retreat at my former monastery, where one of the ways they supported themselves was by raising sheep. I was sitting at my desk, window open (July, I think, maybe August…), spinning my wheels trying to come up with an angle for a Christmas poem. Just then I heard the sheep bleating in the field across the road–and the poem was born. God bless them!
“We eating, bleating sheep
(and some asleep) ” was especially fun to read and imagine.
But even more, both poems conveyed the Truth from perspectives less commonly considered. Thank you. Merry Christmas!
No Family to speak of. I admire repetition when it might mean something else the second or third time. Thank you. Very moving.