The morning tried to begin without me —
but mornings don’t know who they belong to until we arrive.
Deer stood in the backyard where sunlight softened the ice.
Birds sang like it was any other day.
Beneath the snow, water kept moving.
It always does.
Somewhere else, folding chairs filled a prayer breakfast.
A joke about heaven drifted across the room.
Only a few hands came together.
And still — no word from the house with the tape on the door.
A woman’s voice breaks on television, asking for her mother back.
Morning continues anyway.
It always does.
And still — the light finds all of us. 🌟