A-Poem-a-Day Until Christmas
WOOD & NAILS
His splintered hands sand silky smooth
every ding and bump and groove;
then Joseph measures every piece—
hammers nailheads with expertise.
He's built fine cradles, but this one
is extra-special. It's for God’s Son.
He moves Babe Jesus from the trough
to the cradle; He's swaddled, soft.
The manger scene, quaint and lowly
now more befits One Who's holy.
Joseph, years hence will reap a thrill—
he'll teach the boy carpentry skills.
Shoved on crossbeams, Jesus' body.
Crude wood. Workmanship is shoddy.
Men grab His wrists. They pound the nails.
They watch Him wince; His color pales.
They lift the Cross; taunt till He dies.
The air is pierced by women's cries.
The sky grows dark. The dry earth quakes.
O hear the hissing of the Snake…
Holy of Holies veil is torn—
Sin is atoned! Salvation born!
God’s Master Plan, now understood—
began and ends with nails and wood.