The fiery wood

The fire   was burning, hot and red and good
The  Christmas tree placed on the shelf above
We saw  strange, little faces in the wood

In the Crib, the figures  gently stood
A light of blue made this a place of love
The fire   was burning, hot and red and good

All the ornaments were made by Dad
A gifted  man who died before Dads should
We  all watched   faces in the  burning wood

Later Christmas was desired but dread
He would have come to earth if he but could
The fire  still burning, hot and red and good

My heart was filled with treasure from the dead
So I survived the loss from those above
I saw his  face  like Joan of Arc’s in wood

We yearned for our Messiah like good Jews did
But after many years we still were sad
The fire   was burning, hot and red and good
The Holy changeless in the fiery wood