He will come like last leaf's fall.
One night when the November wind has flayed the trees to bone, and earth wakes choking on the mould,
the soft shroud's folding.
He will come like the frost.
One morning when the shrinking earth opens on mist, to find itself
arrested in the net
of alien, sword-set beauty.
He will come like dark.
One evening when the bursting red December sun draws up the sheet and penny-masks its eye to yield
the star-snowed fields of sky.
He will come, will come
will come like crying in the night,
like blood, like breaking,
as the earth writhes to toss him free. He will come like child.
It seems appropriate to have a poem from Rowan as he leaves his post as Archbishop. Advent is the season of watching and waiting and this reminds us that we have no idea when Christ will come again, so we should watch, wait and be ready.
Help us to see each day as an opportunity
To prepare for your coming
To look for you in the morning mists
And the eventide