Abiding in the Fields

   by Larry Turner

Day by day, through the year
prompted by drought and rain, heat and cold
we moved our flocks from pasture to pasture.
Night by night, through the year
constellations traced the zodiac 
in their trek around the pole star. 

To us in the hills it made no difference who—
puppet of Rome or offspring of Maccabees—
sat on the throne, wore the priestly vestments. 

We wouldn't live in the city if we could
amid crowds and noise
with no meaning for us.
Not that living in the hills was easy.
Some nights we told the old stories, 
sang the old songs, but mostly 
in exhaustion we did nothing 
but watch stars circle
and year follow year without change.

Then the skies opened, angels sang,
we went to see the infant, and we knew:
In the way we care for our flocks
the way we work with one another
the way we revere the land
we take our part in the birth of a new world
throughout the earth and throughout the heavens.