The sun set a bright golden salmon. A huge ball
that at first peaked below the purple clouds and
decended into the pale blue sky and lit the snow
between the spent rows of corn to the palest
champagne color. It was breath-taking beauty. One
of the most beautiful sites I've laid eyes on.
But it didn't come close, didn't prepare me for
Christopher.
A tiny little angel laying on a bed of fat blue
sheep dancing across soft flannel. Wires
criss-crossing in a jumble of colored hay. And
one lamb, sliver, lay watch on his pale belly,
the gaurdian of his breath.
An angel with huge blue eyes, a halo of golden
hair and the mouth of a baby bird. His spirt hung
in the air, said "I live here, I am Christopher
James!"
He is beauty
and truth
and innocence
and all the important things
wrapped up in one.
A force not to be reconed with. A tiny baby who
can draw people near, reach out with his breath
and draw them together into a circle of love. He
is Christopher James. And I saw the world in him
last night. Not even glass could keep him from
touching me.
All rights reserved
Karen-lisa Krueger
2/15/2000