Watching the snow fall in the glare of neon street lights.

Too old for cold,
I stand, now, against the hedge,
Watching the snow fall in the glare of neon street lights.
Darkness has come early,
I think of country uplands and huddled sheep.
On Salisbury Plain, shepherds watched their flocks
Just as in Bethlehem two thousand years before.
And then, exactly when?
“Between the wars”, it stopped
Now we know there is no “Between the wars”.
And who decided
To cull the sheep and shepherds
And the space for kindness?
Now that same Plain still exists, but banned
And closed to human-kind,
For bombs, not wombs
Nor for birth of lamb, nor gypsy child, nor Saviour
Where would He go today?