cronechronicler

Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte

Stories From My Kitchen Sink

As I look at my sink
Dishes stacked to be washed
Remind me of days long gone by
Each one tells me a story
A heart-warming moment its gift

Blue glass Starbuck’s mug
Harks back to first son
Long conversations we shared
While his baby son in car carrier slept
Mug greets my mornings today

The crinkly green juice glass
Sole remainder of set
Marks when I was pregnant
With son number two
Now I use it to take morning pills

Little brown bowl rounded out a set
For meals many years later shared
By third son a school teacher
And me living alone
Holidays celebrated in style

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Haiku: Parameters

Some days world too wide
Coffee, over-easy egg
Help set things aright.

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