By Kay Augustine

Early
in the time-hung space
before the dawn
I wait your rising
 
Silently
the horizontal clouds
reflect your warming light
setting all the lake ablaze
 
and as you rise
a column
forms the letter i
between us.
 
You it was
my forbears worshipped:
Mithra, infant Sun God
born of the Virgin Queen,
the Mother God.
 
At midnight
on the solstice eve
her priests emerged with torches
from their inner sanctum,
heralding the waxing sun:
 
Behold!
The Virgin
has brought forth!
The Light returns!
 
Augustin
feeding lambs at Hippo
weaned his flock
by naming their feast
Christmas
 
for the birth of him
whose inner light
has drawn me to this place,
back toward your shining.