mouse

too small to offer
up my coat
i’ll give the baby
quiet

from a lamb’s point of view

i heard those angels singing
and i saw my master leaving
to see the Child

i cannot help but wonder
if this little One
this Savior of the people
will save my life as well

The Cow

His mother feeds him;
my milk is not needed.

Only my stench
Exists for them.

But I will low
and sing a song—

a moo-ing lullaby
for my Creator’s new ears.