Late night meditation

It’s eleven p.m. The street is quiet.
Neighbors’ lights go out one by one
and soon the midnight hour
when only street lights shine.
In the kitchen, dishes in the sink,
an uncorked Cabernet
and a slice of wedding cake in the fridge.
Cat sprawls out on the couch.
On a chair, an open book,
a story half-unfinished,
with maps to the moon
and colored photographs.
Down the hall, the bed waits,
pillows propped two high
and clean sheets.

micropoem for the day: noises

Even in a place you’d think is quiet, there are all sorts of noises. Some subtle and some not so subtle. There are very few places these days we can find that are truly quiet. There’s noise going on around us all the time. Years ago I had the opportunity to spend a week at a Benedictine Monastery. I stayed in their Guest House. I got up early and went to Mass with them. Then I had the day to myself. A couple of hours of each of the five days I was there I spent just sitting in the church, enjoying the solitude. What a refreshing vacation that was.

people talking
a phone beeping, doors closing
life’s randomness