Peace sinks slowly down to us all three lined up.
One on a white twirly bed, one with a mattress dragged downstairs to the floor, and one on the simple day bed.
“It seems quiet tonight.”
“Yeah… stiller… quieter than earlier.”
“A snow like quiet.”
A Christmas quiet, where all the world hushes in expectancy, where winds don’t blow and snow falls soft and birds and animals sit waiting…
waiting for the King to come…
waiting to see that first glimmer of a great star in the sky, a sign for the searching…
Peace comes slowly down.
The clock ticks twelve.
Christmas Eve…
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