I stand alone beside
the cowshed at night,
watching the full moon,
cast its silvery fragrance
over the silent grounds.
Inside, the warm, cuddly smell
of the cows drifts out to me,
as the soft country scents
of fresh milk and sweet hay
refresh my awakening senses,
invigorating me with a new
awareness of the countryside.
as I slip very quietly inside.
I squirm against a chesnut-coloured cow,
as I worm my way into the hayrack.
The cow goes on munching, unflinchingly,
as it must have done ages ago,
on that dark and lonesome night,
when Mary sat alone in the stable,
her new-born babe in her arms.
I gaze at the straw-filled hayrack,
and imagine the Baby Jesus lying
in the manger, still and quiet,
with the animals all around him.
A hole in the roof reveals a solitary star,
twinkling brilliantly, guiding the shepherds
to the stable where the Baby Jesus lies.
I can see them plod up the valley,
anxiously looking for the manger
that cradles the King of glory.
The door of the cowshed swings open,
as the shepherds come creeping in,
their little lambs nestling in their arms.
The stable at Bethlehem
is very quiet and still,
as the world waits
with bated breath,
for God’s Son, Jesus Christ,
to touch the whole world
with His life-changing love.
© Miriam Jacob