Foundation

This morning,
the house is quiet. I sip, savoring
half-remembered days of childhood
when I sang to the ceiling,
spinning improvised tunes
until I dropped off into sunny
afternoon sleep.

More often now,
the world’s a whirlwind
whipping mindless detritus
into purposeful, pointed shafts
and hailing violence till I weep
from the beating. I’ve yet to find cover
from the storm above,

but instead cling to rock beneath,
shored against crash after crash
by foundation on which I layer

interludes of silence—
nap-time burbles in crib,
morning meditations in kitchen,

sacred space of sacrament
when time hangs and Christ anchors
my memories eternally in His own.

• Read more of my poetry at www.facebook.com/latterdaysaintpoetry

• Contact me at merrijane.rice@gmail.com