~
Four Am, he yells, “Get up we’re late!”
Putting fast coffee on
And that’s what delayed people do.
~
“We’ll never get there in time.
I’ll have to leave my bags.”
And, that’s what worriers say.
~
Dark, raining, the old suv needle on empty
Not causing any extra grief,
And, that’s what prayers are for.
~
Peddling intently at 82
She implores god’s merciful grace
And, that’s what mothers do.
~
Worrier mumbles we’ll not arrive on time
“My stuff I’ll have to leave.”
And, that’s what the faithless believe.
~
Here! Arrived, from that road of fear.
Two minutes to spare, and bags on time.
And, that’s what grace procures..
~
“Please, don’t hug me or make a scene.”
Nodding, “of course not.”
And, that’s what autonomy concedes.
~
Thanksgivings whispered while turned towards home
Granted! Then, HE lends these musings.
And, thats what God’s love secures.
~
Mimsi Flowers and Notions 
Perfect angst of the day!! I like the thanksgiving!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. It’s not one of my better poems but after putting my son on the airplane to send hime off on another adventure (place to live) these words came to me when driving home.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I got that sense of you sending off a child ( no big hugs)! Blessings!
LikeLike
Thank you. You must know the feeling?
Last year, I sent him off to Moscow, Russia. Now, San Fransisco… The clock ticks, and time is in our memories and our future. The amount left is questionable, though I don’t ruminate on this. Just the relevancy to how each moment is spent.
LikeLiked by 1 person
indeed!!
LikeLiked by 1 person