Reminder in the Morning

 

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spindly branches
remniscent of spider legs, or
gangly teenage limbs
stretch out above
leaving gaps for sky

daylight is normally the sign to get up
yet the alaskan sky is the sneaky type,
attempts wake you at 4:30 a.m.
instead of 7.

evergreen smells crawl into my hammock
tempting the one sense exposed
with the rest of me burying self in a mummy bag
wool socks holding in heat down by my toes
eyes closed, hoping for a couple more hours
of sleep

while those trees stand tall:
reaching to touch heaven
to point to their Maker
whether or not you are looking…

but how can you not look?

 

 

to those who will look

Gratitude is intentional.

Sometimes, it doesn’t just come. You have to seek it out, to look for rays of light despite however dark a place you are in. As eyes grow accustomed to looking, it becomes easier to see. But you will stay in the dark if you try to keep your eyes shut tight until it is over.  Whatever it is – loneliness or overwhelming season of work or financial low point or monotonous days.

Look around you. What can you spot to call a gift?

Styrofoam cup of Southern sweet tea.
Memories captured by a single image in a frame.
My long-time favorite BIC black ballpoint pen.
New watch given by thoughtful husband.
Multi-colored post-it notes.

If you aren’t looking with eyes searching for grace, you might miss it. But it’s there – He’s there – all around.

I am at my most discontent when I am most wrapped up in myself and what I am missing. My lack seems too easy to spot, especially when that’s what my eyes want to notice. But when I intentionally watch for gifts, I find blessings in the details, and that affects the big picture.

And causes me to attempt at poetry again. Which is one more thing to add to my gift list – the chance to craft words in a precise way, as if threading a needle.

lightning bugs litter air
glow like embers
then disappear

if you can catch
what may only be seen
just for a moment

it becomes a gift

for what other bug
provokes fullness
of lips and cheeks
to those who will look?

hold still

flakes in your lashes
captivate my eyes
quicken my heart

if we still,
maybe
the world will still:
falling flurry
dusting leaves white,
dusting us
in magic

if you do not hold
the moment will disappear
with a blink