What was she expecting,
The girl with the wings of an angel in her eyes?
A child, yes, a son...
But having known no man in the Biblical sense,
Having no physical father to ponder,
What she must have wondered,
As mind and stomach stretched,
Might a man born of divine essence
And sweet obedience,
Resemble?
An angel, a seraph? Or some holy paragon?
With thr first Adam's pure fresh gaze?
Jacob'ssmooth hands, Moses' radiant face,
Or the wavy, raven locks of Solomon
And a body like polished ivory?
How would God manifast his glory?
Could she conceive this son of the most high,
Would choose to look really rather ordinary?
Miracles, she would learn, ar not all discerned
With the naked eye.
Mark Greene. Nov 2011 EG edn 31
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