the not-yet-risen sun
illuminates wispy clouds
faint pink brushstrokes
hushed heralds of a new day
I wrap cold fingers around
warm familiar ceramic
breathe deeply the aroma
of memories and more
hope for new mercies
always there not always felt
thankful for small blessings
reminders I'm cared for
this too shall pass and I
shall be as tried gold
soft, bendable and beaming
I lift up my head
feel the stirring in my heart
though none go with me
still I will follow
through days of pain and toil
inviolable promises remain
so I spin today in joy
grateful for the eye of the storm
and the One who sees me through
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