Theft
Filing out of the family van, we saw snowflakes
could float, dust-like, up from the monochrome
rug that God had unfurled before Maranatha
Baptist Church. There, at eye level,
they kept us for a second from seeing
what we’d driven an hour to see,
a life-sized nativity, its figures arranged
in semicircle, golden, exotic against
the chapel whitescape.