Everyday Nativities

[Charles Cingolani]

Butler Pennsylvania 31

How many mothers
walked down
the sandstone steps
from our hospital
overlooking town
with babies in their arms
singing silent songs of joy
for what they held
for the sun to see
and all of us unseen
who welcomed
their replenishing--
for not far from there,
were it not for trees,
a black thread of cars
could be seen
inching up the hill
toward our quiet field
with its gray
weathering stones.


from: The Butler Pennsylvania Poems