Featured Post

Tastes like ... what??

When our son Ben was a toddler, he was struggling to learn colors, and to develop new food tastes. One day as we pared pieces of a golden de...

Wednesday, October 28, 2020

The day began with so much promise

 The day began with so much promise.

Coffee steam rising from the cup,

a special cup for reasons unspoken.

Sunshine peered around the curtain’s edge

fattening squirrels skittered about the yard.


Promise, behold the day!


A few errands, tasks left cautiously to the side until they could be abandoned no more.

Pick up. Drop off. Exchange some hard earned credit for this, and that.


The rattle has been incessant, even after long hours of work

to strengthen the suspension of an old Pilot.

Plastic. A cover not secured, resonating with every movement of this massive machine.

Easily set aside. Quiet order is restored.


Paint has been peeling for at least three years. 

First a little, soon a lot.

Wood around the large front picture window is exposed, grainy, raw.

Scrape. Sand. Wash.

Primer soaks, caulk oozes into corners awaiting the chilling rain.


It’s loud in here. 

Noise is reaching a fever pitch. 

Politics seem louder than the screamo festival I attended years ago with my teenage son.

To endure the noise may be love, or it may be our intent to survive.


Is it enough to just survive? The day began with so much promise… 


Positivity used to be a secret power that we unleashed.

Glass cathedrals echoed, “positive thinking is POWER.”

27% is a catastrophic warning.

Positivity: frightening, positively heartbreaking.


Broccoli soup is the evening bowl.

Table thanks flow easily over steam that rises,

but what of the millions that have no heat?


Within the physical depths

there is a lingering pain.

Anxious organs wait to snap.


My soul is enshrouded in a misty, damp chill.

What if we can’t right the ship?

When the reflection is unrecognizable, who have we become?

Who have I become?


Once the switch has been disconnected, flipping it doesn’t mean a thing.

Are we too late? Did we miss the promise of the day?


Hope declares that we are not done yet.

Faith intones a power greater than our own.

Grace compels us to try again.


Steam rises. Tonight's tea.

Decaffeinated. Herbal. Comfort.


Still. 

The day.

So much promise.


2 comments:

  1. A poem that seems to speak to me on this dark and rainy day! Thanks for sharing!

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for joining the conversation. While anonymous posts are allowed, they go against the spirit of this blog and open, honest conversation.