One moonlit night in Nazareth,
While creepers scurry in the wild,
Doors are shut and lamps are lit.
With cloth on lap and needle in hand,
Mary sits, watching Her three-year old,
Fascinated by every simple thing He finds.
Joseph enters with a sack,
Unloading contents on the mat.
“Jesus, here are blocks for You to play with.”
The Child examines each cube and beam.
Their rounded edges are smooth to touch.
Joseph is most pleased by his wife’s smile.
The Boy puts one block upon another.
For the first time, He builds something.
Joseph is thrilled to see the construction,
For one day they will work together.
When Jesus stacks a third to the top,
Both parents are amazed at His quick mind.
Recreation is over for Joseph,
Whose chores around the house are never done.
So, he did not see what Jesus did next.
He balanced a long block on top of His stack!
It’s not chance, but nimble dexterity.
Though merely a toddler, He is the Son of God.
“Is it amusing, My Son?” Mary asks.
But Jesus looks at Her with silent gravity.
He shows Her another cube and She nods.
Then, He puts it in the middle of the crossbar.
His structure is now five pieces high,
But wait. It looks like a cross!
On their journeys to Jerusalem,
His parents carefully shielded His eyes,
Lest He see such horrible things.
“Jesus, what have You made?”
Sitting on the floor, He turns to His Mother,
Extending His arms on both sides.
Fear overcomes the Mother of God,
Recalling the sword foretold by Simeon.
As Jesus gets up, the cross tumbles down.
He wraps His arms around His Mother’s waist.
Tenderly, She caresses His Head.
Pressed upon Her, He speaks, “Mama, good blocks.”
