I’m seen less often in these modern times Of email, Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram. I used to fly down to this world in dreams; Perhaps you’d just dismiss me now as spam. But I still bring the most glorious of news And speak of great hope and joy to come. I stand behind you in checkout queues, Brush past you on the bus. I may be dumb In the face of all this noise, the traffic roar, I tell of a family seeking shelter from the cold, The miracle son that Mary would bear Whose life and death would change the world. So, listen for the whisper of my wing, The quiet songs of love my feathers sing.

Search By Tags

© 2018 James Morgan Nash - Writer and Poet - Leeds, West Yorkshire, United Kingdom - 

  • James Morgan Nash - Facebook Page
  • James Morgan Nash - Twitter
  • James Nash Visual Diary
  • James Nash Readings