Posted on 2 Comments

Packages

Empty teacup at my elbow
Sun pouring through the curtains
Dogs snoozing on the clean bed
Red monk smiles from the wall
My pen scratches across paper
I gather myself for this day that
arrives as always with arms full
of small packages for me to open
if I have my wits about me.

Posted on Leave a comment

Signs

It seems a tender little bit of something
to begin a new year on a Sunday
the first day of any week 
in any month of any old year 
a small symmetry that might 
bode well as I like to think
plus my two dogs lie here lovingly
however uncharacteristically 
legs over legs entwined suggesting
if I care to read it so (& let me say 
right here that I do)
a quantity of forbearance 
if not love not to mention that this day
is as sunlit and radiant as any
spring or summer day suggesting
grace and light to come
and in addition the wind does blow
something fierce meaning
(of course) that
ships’ sails will fill and billow
truths will be declared
angels sing in full chorus
as God whispers 
recondite secrets to the trees.  
Ah yes.  This wind that sun
those dogs this Sunday
all signs point 
to an extraordinary year.