No stone left uncovered by a sandal or hoof,
Trees groan under weight spilling over each roof.
Young lifted on shoulders, even the timid get loud,
Both humbled and proud the same height in a crowd.
All watch the parade of a glorious eastern retinue,
Saying “Tell us where the newborn King rests with you!”
The parade and the crowd seem equally bemused,
’til Herod swooped on the news to see it’s refused.
Inspired by Matthew 2:1-3
~Poet of Ephraim