Small is Beautiful (A Poem for Candlemas)

by Edward Keyes

A small light shone that day in the Temple.
The old man, with dimming eyes, saw wide horizons
beyond his ebbing life, saw the immensities
of light and beauty stemming from this small source.
Darkness still lay on the altars
where young birds perished, innocent types
of the saving Death, their songs silent,
their nunc dimittis unvoiced and unheeded.

Now the faithful worship at clean altars
where candles burn, lesser lights to the Great Light.
The birds, long-loosed from the legal chain,
fly freely, meet natural deaths. Under branches
but lately gripped by heavy snow fingers
the snowdrops cluster. The Great Light stabs everywhere
bringing joy and misgiving, welcoming and wounding.
But still small is beautiful,
candles, snow-drops, young birds,
this frolicking terrier,
  and a child christened on Candlemas.