Silent Night

The newspaper shows
A photo of a herdsman
in Afghanistan

I can see his breath
As he crouches by a fire
And warms his fingers

While village elders
And American solders
Meet and talk nearby

I think of the cost
in lives, energy, money
to make this meeting

where global interests
of power, religion, war
and peace intersect

where so much desire
has descended upon one
man warming his hands

This Afghan herdsman
and I aren't so far apart
We want the same thing

The peace that comes with
A warm place by the fire on
A cold winter night