Sitting by the roasty fire
basking in its
cozy warmth,
a pause in the day’s activities
allows a moment
of reflection.
Grocery shopping,
heavy lifting and carrying
up and down
endless stairs,
sheet-changing and laundry
and shoveling snow
echo in my
aching back,
then ease into
a crackle
as I settle
on the couch.
It’s late,
almost bedtime.
My son winds down with
his usual burst
of nighttime activity.
In the background
drones the TV,
and in the
flickering dimness
glow the softly colored tree-lights.
It’s because of
moments like this,
when all of life’s contentment
unfolds in my soul
with spreading wings of comfort,
I almost don’t mind that,
after my son drifts off
into sleep
(and before I can drift off
into my book),
I still have to
wrap the presents.
basking in its
cozy warmth,
a pause in the day’s activities
allows a moment
of reflection.
Grocery shopping,
heavy lifting and carrying
up and down
endless stairs,
sheet-changing and laundry
and shoveling snow
echo in my
aching back,
then ease into
a crackle
as I settle
on the couch.
It’s late,
almost bedtime.
My son winds down with
his usual burst
of nighttime activity.
In the background
drones the TV,
and in the
flickering dimness
glow the softly colored tree-lights.
It’s because of
moments like this,
when all of life’s contentment
unfolds in my soul
with spreading wings of comfort,
I almost don’t mind that,
after my son drifts off
into sleep
(and before I can drift off
into my book),
I still have to
wrap the presents.
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