Behind Every Cloud

After three cups of coffee I’m fully anxious.

The wind thrashes the limbs of the trees,
chases leaves down the wet street.

Winter.

The cats go in and out, and in again.

I force a smile.

The silver lining and all that.

Outside it’s so gray it hurts the eyes.


For dVerse. Bjorn has us visiting the idea of silence in poetry. I tend to use sparse, trimmed-down lines–this (I think) naturally lends itself to silent space. My first draft of this poem was a 6-line lyric, but to heighten the feel of unsettled quiet that I was striving for, I broke each short sentence into its own line.

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Saying Grace

He said Grace over the meal,
mouthing words that were meant
to bring divine blessing,
to sanctify the mundane
act of eating and make the partakers
of food participants in the Holy.

We humans have probably
always done this: take typical
everyday activities and try
our best to infuse them with
heavenly purpose, hoping to make
our lives count for something beyond
this life, somehow coaxing glory
into our existence,  

an otherworldly manifestation,
an angel’s breath. 

Isn’t it’s just as likely
we bring our own meaning
in the very act of living?
Eat, drink, share,
love, marvel—
what more is there to add?


It’s been awhile since I’ve written anything, even longer since posting anything. It’s tough coming back from a long break–I feel like an outsider to my own thoughts, like I’m intruding where I’m no longer welcome. I’ve got to get past this. So anyway–this was written as a response to a poetry prompt for dVerse.