Deep in the length of night,
we pause from our fear
and comfort each other to sleep.
            We’re all buried in darkness,
calmed by the sway of our breath.

            Shadows drape branches like ribbons
and blow away when the moon sinks. 
            We’re dry for now from fog and frost,
dreaming the air will taste clean
when we all emerge from our dens.

            May there be hope in the twilight
when a spark begins the dawn. 
            Whenever we open our eyes
resurrected among the living,
may we always acknowledge the new sky.

            Now it’s again the beginning,
and the dim horizon spreads with glory.
            In the healing of another morning,
pale sun falls over the comforter’s
cornflower blues in a garden of blooms.

            Past the curtains, the earth stirs.
Daytime shines on the leaves,
and backyard birds call out.
            Be grateful if for a moment at least
some part of the earth is at peace. 

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Two lifetimes ago, Catherine performed her poetry in Madrid. Now her main jobs are to write and hang out with her family. These poems, “Psalm after Hibernation” and “Grandeur of the Porch View,” are from her in-progress first full-length manuscript, Sermons. 
Find her socially in the Bluesky and watch/read more at www.caththegreat.blogspot.com