Autumn - bleak
morning light - stark -
Black families of branches,
milky sky,
and so,
I await to cook
bake - with several people
I do not know well.
I will peel and sprinkle and
twist my hands in nervousness,
in subliminal expression.

Hair feels soft and is fragrant.
The radio gurgles spots of news.
I feel.... ???
I am flushed with the heat from
this mornings porridge - warm.

Where are you ??
Who ? The one who never appeared
in a warm kitchen
with a soothing aura.

The door is wide open,
letting in the crispness of this
early December morning.
The coolness rolls around my feet.
I yearn to go to another home,
another land,
maybe across the ocean...

For now, I ponder
and ache from
hiding this choking fear.

So, as autumn draws to its' close and merges
with winters' lightness and darkness,
I realize it is the first advent,
I continue the tradition -
a single white candle burning.

I
I
I still
I need stillness
that is genuine.
I still need
to find,
to dig up my self,

because I felt
the winds of long ago
on my face
and
it was magnificent !!!

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Copyright©2017-1999 by Rebecca R. Hammack

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