God, you see us here in the northern hemisphere.
The days get shorter and the arc of the sun
creeps towards the horizon.
Winter has come
with its great swaths of darkness.
Hope hunkers down with us
as the cold north winds make us shiver.
The last geese fly across the sky heading south,
and the trees are suddenly bare.
In this emptiness you give us advent.
We reach into dark corners and pull out dusty boxes.
Hope glimmers as we string up colourful lights,
and set up nativity scenes that bring to mind
the gift of a baby in Bethlehem.
Hope is hard to find in that war torn place of your birth,
and in so many places this year.
Bombs and bullets crater communities,