SUNDAY MORNING 10:10
SUNDAY MORNING 10:10 I make my way to the balcony, one eye shun, The other shut, squints to find solace and Sun. Cautiously I move reaching out, grabbing only mere air, I need not fear in my search for the Son. I wish to remove a chill within, to warm the soul I lease. Clumsy now I stumble down to find a seat, my chair, One I can claim for the now be outdoors --breathe fresh air. I sit not in thought, but listen at this moment so rare One that wraps around me, where any noise is bare. It is so quiet now; I feel the sunlight as it strains through the trees My mind attempts to focus this singular moment of healing rays. I realize too, it has limits in my time all of the days. What is next, 11:11? This I doubt. During this recovery I am to lift no more than ten pounds. So, I thought to remove the unbearable weight on my shoulders. Patriotic Hydrangea?
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