Some mornings, although we wake weary, the birds
bring blessings. So a mother will rise
from her sleepless night to witness
yet another offering of hope–day’s possibility.
Some evenings, although we’ve been closed, love sparks
a hint of warmth. A father will halt his busyness
and in the sudden opening old laughter appears,
carries him further back to himself.
Bless our lives today. Watch carefully for
lost ones and seek their eyes; touch
an arm to bring solace. Naming losses,
we carry stones out of the depths.
Murkiness below. Above, weeping rocks–
Citrine. Beryl. Jasper. Angelite.
—after Carol Ann Duffy