We wait for moments such as these,
seek the fulfillment of needs in the shared silence
of a serene winter sky
stretched above miles of rolling prairie land,
the intense blue of the lake,
aching crusts of frozen grass
crunching beneath the shiny hooves of passing horses,
their breath flaring into the air
and drifting, disappearing.

We wait for hours like this,
the soft kiss of time shared in evening hours,
the slow sipping of cream sherry,
its dreamy fragrance cupped warm against the face,
the lingering taste of oak and grain,
ripened nuts and aged grapes,
that fine first cut of flavor sharp against the tongue
then mellowing in the mouth,
held for the swallow.

We wait for nights like this,
the long embrace,
faces turned toward each other,
murmured words heard in the drifting toward sleep,
trusting the Lord our souls to keep,
the warmth of soft covers,
the sound of gentle rain.

And, in the waiting as well as the receiving,
give thanks for such moments,
such hours,
such living.

H. Arnett
1/8/16