It is the middle of an unusually warm Connecticut December
dark drizzly deep afternoon.
not long before her hungry needy kids return from school,
she props herself against back porch wall,
listens to wonder how her life is the same,
compared to this river flowing surely and widely
but silently south behind their backyard,
while the river of cars in front
shuttle up and down the state highway's over-fueled Advent traffic,
punctuated with violent horn blasts,
or perhaps warmly intended "Hello"s, "I'm passing by...."
Water toward the south Sound,
carbon-eaters to her back,
across the front yard Advent
of early evening's commercial family business,
institutions for competing commodification
flowing stealthily and syncopatedly impatient toward,
and then by-passing away.
messiah's mass faltering
to sing in her faithful
but worn thin heart and air,
hoping her river loves co-redemptive Sounding ocean
even more than busy motors
surging through more urgent toxic time
invest to completely commercialize
this Birthing Wonder's self-purgative sacred flow
into co-therapeutic nature.
transubstantiating home and families
into consumer markets
float down her river of mid-December's discontent
gloaming river fog
spreads miraculously radiant around one uninvited yellow street light,
waits for her family's bus
to deliver this December night's transforming birth.
Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2015