PROMISE

This time of morning last Sunday

I was so tired

so tired

so tired

so tired of the blessings

I'd driven over the Sierra Nevada

spotted oil wells dotting the Llano Estacado

such beautiful names

for a wilderness

a wilderness

I've been miles deep in caverns

observing the roots of our art forms

toasted with fine wine

chilled by the Pacific's blue

become acquainted with deer

& contented cows

snapped away at picturesque

water fountains

& the majestic Grand Canyon

surrounded by French people

with their mellifluous sounds

spent time with my ambitious son 

touring the impossible lighthouse

overlooking a beach with the highest

concentration of white sharks in the world

viewed ancient Egyptian relics

seen a very fine breakfast or two

& a movie that left me wondering

what it means to love something

I loved it all

so much

The face above all others I saw

in Winslow, Arizona

a young Indian baby girl

profoundly sleeping on her father's shoulder

an elderly woman in Wal-Mart

sitting on a bench, waiting

(Was it for me?)

Her white bone adornments

She was so beautiful

that now the memory of her face

brings tears to mine

it was all so wonderful

that last Sunday morning

at just about this time

my weariness caused me to plow

several yards into the profusion

of black-eyed susans & queen anne's lace

gracing the median strip

I was only an hour from home

just like they say it could happen

There was a mist, 

the only drops of moisture

I had seen coming from clouds

the entire trip

A mist raining down just over the top of my car...

as if it were a personal rain

falling in through the open window

resuscitating the flowers

& me

Now I know there is something more

I always thought  

that there must be

Now I know there is

& it is 

Wonderful