I travelled to Glasgow on the first night
Of Celtic Advent:
Forty days and forty nights like Lent.
A Lenten fast in winter.
I journeyed beside three sad men.
A nephew had died, and they were pilgrims
To pay tribute,
Laden with grief, bearing friendship.
I too journeyed with gifts,
But of wine, chocolate and curtains to be made.
There was indeed a star,
Shining warmly,
Over the table of hospitality
Where my journey ended.
And lo! Glad tidings
Of many things were shared.
And as the three sad men
Travelled home unseen next day,
I was pondering all these things
In my heart.
