In the gentle nearby sound of a train clanging, in the hum
of my refrigerator, or the cat scratching at the door, I make myself a turtle
safe in its shell and avoid the rush of responsibility and self-doubt each new
day brings.
This is not a complaint but rather an epistle.
I am grateful for the opportunity to fall/fail,
Get back up,
Sometimes feel excited or proud.
Brush off the bruises,
Hug my warm children,
Make fresh and public attempts at being worthy.
Oh, but the sweetness in the early morning.
Where anonymity lives.
by Juliet C. Bond
by Juliet C. Bond