Lesson of the Day
I am from early morning glories and
sunlight streams that play peek-a-boo through
smoky puffs of cotton.
I am from Mama's kitchen,
cast-iron crackles, and
gurgles of fresh grind
percolating daybreak aromas
to wake my daddy.
I am from Sunday morning stained glass
in brilliant blue hues and
of mother and child.
I am from organ pipes bellowing,
beseeching me to still myself
and listen to His word.
I am from hoola hoops and
barefoot bee stings,
and backyard swings.
"Look Mama, my toes scrape the sky."
I am from simplicity wrapped
in downy dreams.
Once known, now often forgotten
in the shuffle of grown-up work-a-days,
but visited again in a moment called