The Cleaning Lady

Image by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto Pixabay.  With thanks.

On my hands and knees
I wash the floor
Work with so little prestige
A lowly chore.

The old man, the old woman
Are lulled to sleep.
In the placid afternoon
The time is mine to keep.

Christmas carols playing low.
A dozen poinsettias shining ruby.
Into the winter sunshine glow
A flash of epiphany.

Like Mary, I can now rejoice
To sense He is mindful of me.
Humble, he joins our low estate
The greatest gift, if we just let it be.