The Feast of the Epiphany: Northern California
Reindeer kneel in snowbanks far away;
Polar bears sleep on ice in northern twilight.
Here, the white bells of the manzanita
Have already awakened, and pink primroses,
Sweeter than dawn, grace our days.
On a long and generous afternoon,
Wild pigeons feed beneath the redwoods,
And high in her unseen retreat,
The dove calls in a voice softer
Than the kiss of holy water
Or a kind thumb’s touch
With healing oil.
Her carol harkens us to something
Lost in winter’s dream—
The scent of myrrh under a dark pine,
The fragrance of frankincense
And the circle of golden light
A single candle can create.