Poignant, this Pause

In error’s midst
he comes.
In winter’s mist
he comes. He comes
bearing humility,
birthing service. Patient
waiting becomes him whom
the heavens hold forth for one
such as you, for one such as
I. We too wait. We await
this coming,
this tulip bulb,
this winter wheat,
this pregnant idea.
Poignant, this pause.