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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