A low glow of orange 
Shows between the two houses across the street 
As dusk and evening begin to meet. 

A long cloud stretches up 
Above the houses, 
Above the streets 
Above this small town 
And all that lies around it. 

Its northern edge  just catches the glow of the sky,
A gray-boned rib fleshed with feathered fringes 
Of blue, rose, and white. 

It seems to reach all the way 
From the ending of day 
To the beginning of night. 

I reflect on this day's work, 
The coming conversations, 
The time spent with an eight-year-old grandson 
In a backyard pool that was too cool 
For the pleasure of touch on skin. 

I knelt with my chin in the water,
Held up my thumbs horizontal above my head
So that he could grab a hold from behind 
And climb up, 
Stand on my shoulders. 

As I rose from the waters, 
He tensed for the jump, 
Launched himself out and into the water,
Surfacing several get away
And always circling back for 
One. More. Time. 

Not completely unlike the way 
I end each day 
Hoping for one more morning, 
One more bright dawning, 
One more day of the work of my hands, 
The love of those I love, 
Letting go of the past 
And stretching toward the future. 

To him who has made this day, 
I will give thanks 
And try to rise 
Rested in faith, 
Held by hope, 
And led by love. 


H. Arnett
9/5/24