Archangels in the Moon Garden on Christmas Morn
The flowers in whitest rows set forth their white
Perfume beside the Great Rift Valley on
The day that Christ was born. A rose’s might
Is all that they can muster in this dawn
Of Kenya. That is strong enough, though. Beds
In shapes of moons, in slivers, quarters, whole
Moons, open out their petals on the heads
Of roses like archangels’ wings or bowl
Of frankincense or myrrh held out by kings.
A black one, Balthazar, stands higher than
The others. Only Mary brings high things
Enough to overshadow him, this man.
In Africa white blossoms open out.
Archangel petals stretch more wide than doubt.
~ Phillip Whidden