On a clear night
Obscure they trudged through miles of layered grains.
Shepherds seeking a Bethlehem shed;
A hovel housing the promise of glory in straw and precious proximity;
A king who would not be piqued by simple society offering rustic reverence.
Crossing the sea of shifting sand peripheral people came
To gaze at the center of the universe.
Their visit perhaps a portent to a world turned upside down.
Unable to pay the price of admission to the presence of Holiness, they were
Ushered, angelstruck, to the front row.
Shepherds standing before a manger, they were just
Low enough to see the High King.