HIS EYES

His Eyes

His eyes blinked open, His heart stirred by the commotion outside. He looked up from the cold feed trough, out through the rough wooden stable gate, and into a star-lit sky. His mother, asleep in a mound of hay an arms-length away, weighed heavy on the mind of his dad who was out for the third time tonight searching for any available room. Looking at the stars He created, as they danced and sparkled and flashed, a bright light tore open the black emptiness of the distant horizon. The Heavenly Hosts, that He left just hours before, were now delivering His message of hope and salvation to a handful of shepherds on the outskirts of Bethlehem.The rugged gate-post, knotted and splintered and worn, stood tall and obscured His view. His eyes focused on the cross-beam rafter, held fast to the gate post by a few large metal spikes. He could hear His worship beyond the wood and nails that now stood between Him and home. A cool wind blew as the night stood silent once again. His mother startled against the evening chill. She checked her baby lying still and looked into …His eyes.                                                  ©(2021), Joseph Crain

Used by permission of the author