At the window, a boy, a shepherd
from the field, from the night,
breathless, owl-quick over the walls
he came, saw my candle's light.
"Angels!' he says, dancing on his toes,
wild star-lit hair, face giddy, his voice
like a silver bell, "Angels!" he rings,
"And a baby. Come see. Rejoice!"
t. silva 12\12