Openings … Father’s Coming Home

Scraped little knees upon a patterned sofa,

Take the position waiting for father,

Eyes, desperately searching the road for his presence,

Through a window, metal, thin, shielding no cold,

or wind, just rain and some transparency,

a minimal function, like the missing parts, a mist.

Waiting for his return.

The small boy hopes and prays it will be today.

“God gives a home to the forsaken”

Psalm 68

Openings … A wandering stream

 

A wandering stream, cuts a path where resistance is low,

It’s natural inclination, do little with little power,

when the snow melts, it digs a little deeper,

moving rocks and dirt further downsteam,

Creating fertile plains that will grow the crops of our lives.

 

“aspire to live a tranquil life,”

Thessalonians