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To be Filled with the Fullnes of God

Far beyond what I can ask or think
Or think to ask
Or dare to dream
Or hope to have
Or the "maybe's" of my mind

The vacuum of my need is even further,
Greater than what my tenuous grip of
What I believe to be reality tells me
And yet

You have promised more

From a child

One foot in front of the other
Left Right Left Right
Quick!  Fast!  Go!
Where to?
Who knows?
We’ll figure it out when we get there

There is only one rule:
The floor is lava
And avoid the cracks!
OK, so maybe two.
Running is the funnest game!

The adults don’t run, well
not like us.
Mommy runs to work and
Daddy runs to the store.
Grandma - she runs the bridge club,
which is weird now that I think of it because there aren’t bridges around here.
I saw one on TV.  I don't get it.  It's painted red, but they call it gold.

Left Right Left Right
Quick! Fast! Go!
Where to?
Who knows?
We’ll run until we’re old

The Word Market

Pluck one from the pile
delicately, deliberately.
Gauge its weight cradled in your palms

Turn it over with a gentle grip
Is it ripe?  Is it right?
Texture is not a trivial thing.

Give it tap and listen to the sounds.
Are they sharp, shallow, shrill,
strong, sturdy, strident?

Taste a taste;
Note the notes
How will it pair with the others?

Inspect as many as you desire
They are after all, free - at first -
The price paid in the absence of another

Possibly heretical sacrament

They only serve breakfast until 11 a.m.
But I woke up late, and additionally
A friend was in need
Time stops not for trivialities
Such as the availability
Of one woman's much-desired meal

I phoned ahead, asking
if they could make my omelette
for pickup after the cutoff time
“We’ll wait for you,” they said
“Do not worry about being late to the table.
There is no shame here.”
I do love their omelettes.

It comes with a hearty 7-grain toast
A giant slab of it
served with foil-wrapped butter.
And what breakfast is complete
without coffee?

I took the bread and the cup
The ding of the cashier and the
low chatter of patrons
The clickety clack of fingertips
on laptops all but ceased

Swirls of cream hovered over
dark, caffeinated waters.
I heard a voice,
“Let there be life”
And there was.
And the world was very good.