advent journal: little lives


Each day is a little life, and each life is rounded with a little dark. (Chet Raymo, 41)

little lives

I was born this morning
into a world of possibilities
wrapped, first, in the wonder
of a BLT and egg sandwich
(yes, God is good)
and the kind of conversation
among friends that defines
what friends are to one
another: the ones who stay

I grew into an afternoon
of what could be seasoned
with what I signed up for
and then, as the day died
I worked myself into the
the dimming of the day
and the darkness carried
me out into the night
life to hear music

The day may have died,
but the night had not.
I stood in a room filled with
the road company for Rent
and then found my way
to the restaurant to finish
the day among friends,
which is the way all little
lives should come to a close



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