a run through the 'hood in the cool morning air,
a cup of hot coffee,
quiet at my desk,
laundry folded,
a book finished.
Some afternoons are
an easy midday visit,
a few bounces on the trampoline,
a grilled cheese sandwich with melted Velveeta,
making the ball light up for a favorite little guy,
a long conversation with a far-away friend,
wondering what on earth that message meant.
Some evenings are
cheesy noodle casserole,
split a piece of chocolate cake,
closed eyes singing,
but it is not as though the word of God failed,
a spot against the wall on the floor to pray.
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