When angels are born

Waken.

Shake off the funny old week that it's been.

Shuffle down

to the kitchen in

the half light,

turn on the coffee maker.

Gaze out the window at the new day

wait for the sun

to reach up to the waiting sky.

Flick on my laptop

and listen to the comforting

gurgle and smell the scent

of coffee beans being roasted.

Needing this morning

to be holy,

significant.

To feel beloved,

beloved on this earth.

Watch  the world beyond the window

tipping into spring

and dream

of when

angels

are

born