We were just youg men then
          as shepherds would be
who had not yet flocks of their own.
the way the scribes tell the story
          is not as it happened though surely no less.

We were in the tent tossing bones
          as we did every night,
discussing the girls of the villiage
          as we did every night:
when the one - whose name I have forgotten - 
          standing vigil over the flocks
pushed aside the skin that served
           to keep out the bitter wind.
He told of a strange star on a strange course.
          It seemed to beckon as it moved.
He thought to follow, wanted us to do the same.
We had, we said, the sheep to be concerned;
he argued we might never see another such star.

At length we tossed the bones a last time
          to see who'd stay and mind the sheep.
I lost ... or, you might think, I won ...
remained with the sheep while the others
          tracked down the slopes into the stable.

I kept the trust that night. Truth to tell,
in the passing of the years
          there have been other stars
                     and other stables.