I come out here to get away, and sit
in the quiet noises of the neighborhood –
lawn mowers, power tools, birds, barking,
and greetings of power walkers on the road –
or the muffled sound of the kids fighting inside
I come out here to sit in the warmth
of the sun and unconditioned outdoor air
You: two years old and full of life;
you: never wanting to say goodnight.
And I: tired, but addicted to
that look of wonder on your face.
Together we went out the back
and looked up into the dark sky
where we saw the light that governs
the night. It was full and bright white.
I lie in bed in my Georgia home, located on Forest Drive
– my house really is kind of set in a forest,
in a neighborhood set in a Metro Atlanta forest –
and I hear him outside, close by, calling out, asking us
“Who cooks… who cooks for you… who cooks for you all?”
His call is deep, smooth, and purposeful.
And I think of the tall, bearded, long-haired man
who, with knowledge, conquered our fears of the night forest.
There’s something about the way the road bends and turns
like a stream cutting its way through the landscape
making its way home
making its presence known and demanding the crowd to move
make way for the lady with the curves
who is sure she looks so fine,
which is the effect of the high
of the hot coconut caramel Dunkin’ Donuts coffee
and the 25 minute break away from the hyped-up or heavy-eyed hormonal adolescents she has just spent the last three hours with.
There are moments when
I feel ready to fly away from
the tyranny of human systems and
the tyranny of my body
the tyranny of this seen universe.
My mind wonders about and
my soul longs for
greater beauty and knowledge and
the pure system of Jesus Christ
the Kingdom of God
which I am convinced is
new every morning, so to speak,
if there are mornings there