This fall I attended a retreat and one of the poetry workshop gave this assignment of crafting a poem using “I am” statements to describe a scene.  This is my attempt…

I am the mouse who sneaks in the dark

to find treasures left from the night before,

startled by the buzz of the machine that tells me I

am not alone.

I am the nutty steam climbing

among swirls of blackness and cream.

from the edges of a Red and Black Rutger’s mug

that comforts in the space of an absent child.

I am the fluffy down blanket swaddled around pink flannel pj’s

pulled from the tub of last winters clothes, when the weather suddenly but finally changed.

I am the wrinkled sunny pillowcase of 600 count Egyptian cotton

bearing smudges of yesterday’s mascara on my edges like skywriter’s fog.

I am the distracting carmel colored coffee spill

born yesterday from little feet and paws seeking warmth before the furnace had been stoked.

I am the worn leather book with  with the soft padded edges

rounded in hands like soft familiar clay

bearing a rainbow of highlights and dogeared corners.

I am the proud pink grosgrain ribbon, edges frayed by

peaceful and anxious hands, keeping perfect place

like a guard at the palace gate.

I am the verse poured over and loved

in the context of ancients yet

precise for the moment and space.

I am The Voice,  spoken but silent

dividing truth from error

intimate yet other

the same today as before the day

light was separated from darkness.

I am the window glanced through with

two tiny peanut butter fingerprints on my sill,

unable to hold the heaviness of night

from the dawn, I assure with warm rays pouring in across the

crumpled sheets.

I am the child content and silent

at her mother’s breast.

digesting  grace and truth

as pure nourishment for a weary soul.