Tonight, a tired world slumps, dusty-shouldered,
living large in a tapioca dream, puréed and puerile.
Tonight, the moon decides our fate but blows,
instead, a kiss of light outward to the squinting stars.
Tonight, there sit angry men, rye and ribald
as coffee grounds in the wine, telling cold stories.
Tonight, the light has scurried down the wall
to tease her cache of frozen friends, weeping silently.
Tonight, in the destitution of morbidity,
a son refuses comfort, a daughter, embrace.
Tonight, a mother’s touch unoffered, renders
a mind, once hopeful, to break with yearning.
Tonight, a once great man’s manhood hangs
in the balance of his choice of self-destruction.
Tonight, a people sleep restlessly, awake
to nothing new, asleep to all that’s old.
Tonight, when clocks tick forward, marching
like soldiers, the seconds grasp for more of less.
Tonight, a humble priest, lips now entombed,
trembles in happy disbelief with news of eternity.
Luke 1:5-20
Rob's Lit-Bits 
Love the Zechariah reference. Some of them make me curious – I like the people sleeping restlessly lines…
Thanks, Melody. Haven’t seen you ’round as much online. Busier than normal?
Yep. Have had quite a few days where I haven’t even gotten to WP – pretty unusual for me. Haven’t had time to write either. 😦 Did my first ever co-writing on a Christmas project we did as a duet yesterday – a sure sign that the music is stirring. Miraculous! So pleased. Am catching myself humming, too – love that my soul is healing enough to have that happen again. I’ll be around when I can…
We write and sing as it’s right to do so. Seasons. Always seasons.
So true. It’s not a race – I keep reminding myself it’s not a race….
Yup. Just enjoy whatever comes, whenever it happens to come.