Grateful by Tao Writer

It’s Sunday morning
the first rain of Autumn soaks into a dry, brown earth
the celebration of harvest time is shadowed with fear
candles flicker
plants send out their arms to greet me
an unfilled robe hangs in waiting on the bathroom door

a hot kettle sends battalions of steam into the invisible
bluesy, melodic jazz permeates the room
“Someday, you’ll be sorry,”
she sings in a non-forgiving voice

sorrows, yes, a few, but no regrets

no tension of opposites exists here

emotion simultaneously embraces both sorrow and joy
It’s Sunday morning

the sun seeps through now emptying clouds
the liquid amber bursts into flames

Mission bells chime the start of early Mass
I feel safe and warm, I am at home
and grateful for this blessing of a still life.

Photo Credit: A Still Life, Socrates Black, Digital Image, ©️2009.