I think I could have built a little house to live in
with the single cord-half seasoned, half not-trucked into the driveway and
tumbled down. But, instead, friends came and together we stacked it for the long, cold days
that are-maybe the only sure thing in the world-coming soon. How to keep warm
is always a problem, isn't it? Of course, there's love. And there's prayer.
I don't belittle them, and they have warmed me, but differently, from the heart outwards.
Imagine what swirls of frost will cling to the windows, what white lawns I will look out on
as I rise from morning prayers, as I remember love, that leaves yet never leaves, as I go out into the yard and bring the wood in
with struggling steps, with struggling thoughts, bundle by bundle, to be burned.
Is winter really coming? Perhaps so as we are only getting up to 90 degrees each day and it falls below 70 in the night. Heading to Mississippi tomorrow though where the temperatures will rise to 95 each day, I wonder about having confidence in sure things. Somewhere on this planet it is always not winter. Children sip soup with sweat drops formed on their lips every day, hands swatting flies and holding spoons. They will not ever know coolness and might not even perceive change in their lives. I imagine though that love hovers in their lives, the constant being the paradox that it is both fleeting and permanent, alighting to tickle the soul, drink of our sweat, and fly away.
How does love burn in your life?
