THE TOUCH-LAMP CHRISTMAS ANGEL
for Catherine Milander
I wonder if they’ll be told
of my op-shop origins. Shining now
in all this silver and gold,
I’m Guest of Honour,
a Christmas luminary ooohed and aaahed
by young and old.
“See the new angel on the shelf!”
So much seems right
about this, my appointed place.
I look down and see baubles and bells,
and lights – lesser lights—hung on the tree.
On the sill there’s a small Santa,
and the odd Christmas elf.
The reindeer have come to a halt
I see flushed excited faces
kissing under some mistletoe.
I shine on all, chase away night
and reveal this Christmas scene.
You had it all planned.
“We need more light”,
you said, and at your touch
I gave it. Only you know,
you who made me
from the op-shop touch-lamp,
lowering my angelic array
over its metal frame,
that without you I am not much
at all. Just gold and silver fabric
and feather wings
until I feel your human hand
and then my being lightens and sings.