Rejoice. The third candle, pink and fresh with life,
Alights and sparkles while the hope grows long.
Rejoice: Advent is rising; though the strife
Of ways unprepared may hurt our knees, the strong
Will hold the weak and walk. Advent is stretching
The stiff joints of silence. Advent is latent
Yet stirring with noise; Advent is listening
For the cue to rise and walk, to repent
And follow the king. Advent’s a twitch, an impulse,
A call to attention, a horn lifted,
A pounding, a surging, a raising of pulse,
An in-gathering of lost and of sifted.
Advent is beckoning and growing with sound;
Advent rejoices in humming around.
The Consolations of Writing 