THE NIGHT

Grief
Is a narrow thing,
Tight against
My breath -
Begging an answer
To unanswerable
Death.

I'm remembering
A sunrise.
I saw the bright
Quick streams of light
Sing gold across
The Sky.
And it came to me then
How essential
Is the night:
For only from dark
Do we know dawn
At all.

The memory lets
One small solace in.
If we must
Endure an end
To know the endless -
Oh, gladly
I will let you go:
That when I see you
Standing at the door
To that more
Permanent place,

How quickly
I'll recognize
The eternal
In your embrace.

- Carol Lynn Pearson

ON NEST BUILDING

Mud is not bad for nest building.
Mud and sticks
And a fallen feather or two will do
And require no reaching.
I could rest there, with my tiny ones,
Sound for the season, at least.

But -
If I may fly awhile -
If I may cut through a sunset going out
And a rainbow coming back,
Color upon color sealed in my eyes -
If I may have the unboundaried skies
For my study,
Clouds, cities, rivers for my rooms -
If I may search the centuries
For melody and meaning -
If I may try for the sun -

I shall come back
Bearing such beauties
Gleaned from God's and man's very best.
I shall come filled.

And then -
Oh, the nest that I can build!

- Carol Lynn Pearson