Late night poetry
is the sound of my own whispering voice
reading by lamp light...
to peaceful, passionate, or even tragic images
I will mull over
while falling asleep
It is the feeling,
of hearing the Holy Spirit beside me-
I can almost tell what creative endeavor is coming next...
It is Sunday breakfast!
Lemons and sugar, rasp- and strawberries in the morn!
Over a pot of Earl Grey,
-a buttermilk pancake
-four babies playing
-smiles from my best friend
-gentle rain out of doors
-sweet thoughts of a blessed week gone by...
and always
the poetry
the sonnet
the spring
the songs
the friends
and Spirit
to my heart
to my mind.
Shell xx
