Night Blind

Night Blind

It always  was your sight

That banished darkest night,

But now my Light is spent,

For while I dozed, it went

The way of leaving things:

Bags packed, a cab, the rings

Bereft beside the bed

Atop a note that said:

When darkness turns to day

And chases dreams away,

Yet you remain in night,

Long longing for the light,

Think on me and know

I didn't wish to go.

Advent

ADVENT


It's a season of waiting, as we do tonight
when the forecasters herald a coming storm.
All day long, a  warning crawls across the screen,
"Prepare, prepare!"

This morning, we started putting things in order.

We've grocered and moved the cars
to the top of the hill.
We even replaced the old shovel
with a more ergonomic model.
Soup is bubbling on the stove,
and candles are on the counter,
ready in case the trees bow down
and break the lines that light the dark.

Of course, the power of this night, really,
is in the promise of things to come;
A perfect storm started far away
and is blanketing the world already.

Meanwhile we've wrapped ourselves
in purple robes while we wait
for the coming force in the snug little house
that we've tried to put in order.