Late last night
Under covers – down,
joined by the purring
At my feet
Acting out something
I cannot remember now
From fluttering eyelids and
Speech that sounds like snoring…
I swear I don’t snore 😉 .
Perhaps as the blood red
Alarm clock glowed,
And as ticks, sighs,
groans of our
Restless house
Wound itself into
The arms of early
morning. The clouds
In the birthing
Room of another
Brood of sunrise
Yet just before
The final ‘push’,
The last cry of
Nightfall’s curtain
Descends…thousands
Of miles away bursting
Through the Rockies
Days before its
Winter’s lips
Kissed frosted earth
Bending spruce and ferns
Into a deep embrace
Only to pick up again
Skirting the Black hills
And Lincoln’s chin
Rushing on down
towards the mighty
Mississippi, as ice bergs
Smaller than those that
took down the titanic
Weave their way into
The heart’s arteries of
America.
As it touches down once
again, the mighty river
ebbs to the beckoning call…
back in our home
still sorting out visions
with eyes clasp shut
It rushes down onto our
our creaking home…
Its winter’s clutch
testing storm windows
pushing at the screen door
somewhere deep inside
Dorothy Gale tries to click her
heels, as Toto barks on…
it happens quickly,
yet Oz doesn’t come into
view,
the birthing room announces
another fire branded day
is here…both Lincoln’s chin
and the mighty Mississippi
breathes collective sighs of relief
as the cries of a new born day
begins.
Pastor's Ponderings 
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