When The Clouds Kiss The Mountains

 

on mornings like this,
gray and dreary,
rain like tears
thunder like my
father's voice
after i'd transgressed

and i've worked hours
and hours and hours
and my eyes are sad,
as they mostly are while
i drive, and my feet are
almost too sore to rest
on the pedals, which
they mostly are on the
long drive home

i look to the right,
because that's
where the mountains
are in the morning
on my drive home,
and i see the clouds
kiss the trees and the
stone that is so much
older than i am or ever
will be

and i believe, all at once,
all over again, with as much
awe and joy as in the first
moments after producing
a brand new person who
lay in my arms like a miracle
depending on me, loving me,
needing me,

i believe in God.

denise

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