Stillness

I wrote this poem one rainy morning last winter. After making a cup of hot tea, I shuffled back to bed to snuggle under the warm covers. Listening to the patter of rain as the day rose from slumber. Not needing to rush off anyplace, enjoying the solitude of stillness.

Transcript

Dear friends,

Today the poem I am offering you is called Stillness.

Today the patter of rain against my window gives voice to the day,

While darkness fills the sky some shade of gray.

I wake slowly,

Adding layers of clothing for comfort,

Lighting candles to soften the room,

Gradually shuffling back to bed with hot tea.

There is no reason to rush anywhere.

The morning barely rose from slumber.

Most are carefully tucked in bed,

The birds just beginning their chant.

I sit here unfolding the covers from dreams,

Holding hope for the day,

Yet it will likely pass by,

A forgotten miracle too big to contain its essence.

These quiet times,

Often taken for granted,

Without blessing each moment for what we have been given in stillness.