Carol of the Bulls
by Beth LaBuff 10/16/2008 / Holidays
They sheltered in the weathered barn,
Their custom at end of day,
Added scents to mingle with
The stover and baled hay.
A microcosm of barn-life
That mirrored humanity,
Spats and greed festered and fostered
Like pots that called the kettle black,
Hogs beefed about the sheep smell.
They claimed their stench was nigh unto
An overflowing landfill.
The chickens hatched their plan for nests,
Pulled wool over sheep' eyes,
Nests within the feeding troughs,
To hoard the hay supplies.
Old rooster was a barnstormer,
Who flew and goosed the duck.
The pig who watched these birds in flight
Had dreams of fowl potluck.
Then at the darkest midnight hour,
Since evil's head had reared,
Though the window of the barn
A Christmas star appeared.
In that magic mystic moment
A lowing sound occurred.
It started in the pen where bulls
Milled near the cattle herd.
Then added to the lowing bass,
A newborn lamb released his voice
With guileless harmony.
Their carol grew to a crescendo,
Livestock dissension ceased.
Lion and lamb peace resumed
For feathered fowl and beast.
In the barn a song arose
With mixed creation flavor,
A tonal sacrifice of praise,
A fragrant-smelling savor.
4--because it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins.
5--Therefore, when Christ came into the world, he said:
"Sacrifice and offering you did not desire, but a body you prepared for me;
6--with burnt offerings and sin offerings you were not pleased.
7--Then I said, 'Here I am—it is written about me in the scroll—
I have come to do your will, O God.'
Copyright Beth LaBuff 2015
Before Beth LaBuff and her husband, Tilman, moved to the high desert of Arizona, she lived most of her life surrounded by the cornfields of Adair County, Iowa.