(after hearing Morten Lauridsen’s Magnum Mysterium at a friend’s Wedding)
The hush falls
like soft-feathered snow,
as light takes its leave.
Clamoring thoughts,
like tired children
spent from running
in delirious circles,
take a final spin,
then collapse,
asleep in a pile.
Our Mother, full of stars,
reaches up her gentle
hand to switch on
the crescent moon.
Its sparse light
trails to earth
like a bridal train
and lays like lace upon
the snow-covered ground.
Now, finally,
cloaked in quiet
there is a clearing
not already occupied
by thought
where we are stilled by song
and become
the sweet capture
of two delicate voices
entwined like dancers
turning in the air,
light-footed,
arching heavenward.
Here,
hanging in the air,
like crystals on a
snow-laden tree:
what rough straw
would have whispered
from the manger.
Tamara Nicholl-Smith’s poetry has been featured on two Albuquerque city bus panels, one parking meter, numerous radio shows, a spoken-word classical piano fusion CD, and in several publications, including the Mutablis Press anthology Enchantment of the Ordinary, Kyoto Journal Issue 95, The Examined Life Journal Issue 8, and Catholic Arts Today. She is currently pursuing an MFA in Creative Writing at the University of Saint Thomas in Houston. She enjoys puns and likes her bourbon neat.
