I wrote this earlier today when Little Girl was scheduled for morning nap,
(because she arrives before sun-up) but she definitely didn't get that memo.
Nap #2 was a no-go as well and poof, so much for another day!
but Duty handed me a more domestic Beauty, so we admired the Gift from windowed frames.
Precious page of almost hist'ry sets a stage beneath our touch
Breaks through bars of almost heaven to delight the likes of us
Strews the glitter of potential through the dimming of the stars
And invites us to be thankful in spite of life’s slights and scars
Precious poise of noise and nuance tries sighs of caged wanderlust
Hunger kicks beneath the ribs while duty ties hands to its Must
Urging us, from four-wall corrals to be tenderly surprised
By a beauty-full decanter if we open up our eyes
Windows frame the Wow of seasons slipping ‘cross the countryside
Granting us ten-thousand reasons to be humbly satisfied
For this page of almost His’try is a very short-lived place
Always sealing with each sundown that which no one can erase
Worship bows in adoration to the Giver of our days
Breath-taking evaluation stuns complaint with rev’rent praise
As dawn's Door swings gently open to time’s most imminent Yet
Prompting us to tread with awe where almost Hist’ry’s stage is set
© Janet Martin