Nativity

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Last night I stepped outside into the bracing cold to
let the dog out one last time before bed.
Already, the ground glinted with heavy frost.
I breathed in sharply. My nostrils burned.
Instinctively, I shoved my hands deeper into my
coat pockets. I looked up and waited for my eyes to
adjust to the darkness. Slowly, I saw stars.

It was then the thought came to me that someone,
right this very minute, was having a baby.
I imagined the mother, trembling with strength,
hair wet and matted, sweat beads framing her upper lip,
body curved into a C-shape, turning herself inside out.

If only I could tell her that the sky was littered with diamonds
that told a story about this very moment.
I wished that I could call to her across the inky orb.
I think she might be heartened to know that the babe she
now held was dripping with stardust.
Perhaps that might make her smile.

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