At dusk, the people

gathered on the hillside.

Candles and costumes,

a donkey’s bright stripped rug

for Mary, robed in green, to ride on.

Then, banners, bugles and drums;

while guttering candles, held tight,

moved slowly down the road,

led by dancers with plumes and bells.

Voices raised in hymn, sang praises.

Faith shone in eyes.

Or was it candle light and tears;

reflecting their own joy of being?

 

 

David Garlick