When Wisdom made the galaxies,
And then was born on Mary’s knees,
Then Joseph wiped the blood away,
And wrapped placenta in the hay.

Fashioning the furthest star,
Love came to join us as we are;
Took on a body--dust and clay--
In the accustomed, messy way.

Why, then, did the Apostle say,
To us who celebrate today
And gaze in wonder at the crèche,
“Make no provision for the flesh”?