Just a man sitting at a kitchen
table mumbling morning prayers
while everywhere around him
the birds wait for the light.
Do such simple scenes keep
the world green for this life and
for the life to come? Maybe.
Though his long-cherished season
is still weeks away he listens to
The First Noel, the carol an odd
memento mori. He wonders if his
end will arrive sitting at a kitchen
table mumbling prayers rote and
fresh as dawn and birdsong. Maybe.
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“. . . mumbling prayers rote and fresh as dawn and birdsong”
wow, I shall pray on encouraged by this! thank you!!
Well, you did it. You used poetry to make me audibly swear at work. Carols as a memento mori… that’s going to stick with me for a few months.
Yes! You’re writing again, Mr. Blase! Just today I heard you say you were tired; in a season of rest and not writing. But. I don’t know when you recorded the interview with Emily P. Freeman for Hope*Writers. I happened to listen to it today. Your words filled several pages of my note pad. But now, be encouraged! Your lovely poem spoke to my heart! Stay the course!
Hi, Dianne. Thanks for reading my words, and for your encouraging response.
Would they happen to be from Venite? Not a bad way to go indeed. Enjoyed your Fathom piece immensely, John. Glad to find your site too. Peace!