'Wrapped warm in love' - a wee poem

I enjoy trying to rise to the challenge of a villanelle - the form and structure can be a little maddening, but it's fun.

Here's one I wrote for Christmas:

Wrapped warm in love
The new-born child in her embrace
Sleeps softly now this first Yuletide,
Wrapped warm in love: God’s act of grace.

Born to save the human race,
In wholly humble dwelling bides
The new-born child in her embrace.

And angel-song fills heavenly space,
And God, on earth, is glorified,
Wrapped warm in love: God’s act of grace.

Shocked shepherds leave their flocks, make haste,
To see the One long-prophesied:
The new-born child in her embrace.

The holy in the commonplace –
The Word with humans now resides
Wrapped warm in love: God’s act of grace.

All gathered, look upon the face;
Enfleshed, God’s love is signified -
The new-born child in her embrace,
Wrapped warm in love: God’s act of grace.
   [c.Nik Mac]

'Have yourself an edgy little Christmas': a memory

Remembering a Christmas from long ago...  

She had wanted to be edgy, a wee bit trendy;
to deconstruct tired Christmas tree traditions.
Day by day, she walked the beach
eyes scanning shells and sand,
dismissing plastic bottles with peeling, faded labels,
ignoring soft pink jellyfish splayed out in hot summer sun.
Among the seaweed hummocks
she found what she was looking for,
felt the smoothness of sea-washed wood in her hand.
She nodded, pleased, gave a ‘this will do nicely’ smile.
Once dried and cleaned,
rustic natural charm was replaced –
overlaid by spray of glossy white paint.
Slung between two wall lamps by fishing line,
hung with assorted baubles, shining red,
driftwood that had once been part of something bigger
seemed to make the season strangely small.
There were presents, wrapped and stacked against the wall
but firm: ‘no room for a tree this year.’
It seemed oddly fitting:
in this deconstructed Christmas
there was little room for Jesus.

When the child grew up
and made her own way in the world,
she reconstructed what felt to her like Christmas.
No matter where she lived, 
how big or small her home,
there was always a tree to lay wrapped presents under –
room enough to remind her of that other gift:
of the babe wrapped in bands of cloth and laid within the manger.
   [c.Nik Mac]