There is a little dog in the scene.
Black and white, with large,
curious, brown eyes.
He’s skipping with delight as he sees
something his innkeeper does not
see: new life.
They are lying now on straw,
so he rushes over to lick
the lady’s hand to show
compassion and waits with her
through the hours till a small
cry breaks the night.
“Jonah,” cries the innkeeper,
“come away,” but Jonah knows
his duty and must comfort
the child. He jumps up to welcome
a lamb and two shepherds
who speak about the sky singing.
He steps aside, lies down
with tongue hanging, breathing
with joy. He is their guardian.
He will oversee the visitors
and ensure that all is ordered,
for his little dog mind
has divined that light has entered
the world, that he has seen the beginning
and must hold it safe.
— William Rewak, S.J.
Nov. 4, 2022
