At midnight I hear the cuckoo clock chiming
from it’s perch in a cluttered kitchen
locked in cadence with the tower bell
gonging this old mill town at midnight
to a deeper sleep,

like a call to prayer
reminding me that this new day,
starting in the dark of a hallowed night,
is more than just an ordinary day:

blessed by memories
stirring in palpable realness—
your soft breathing beside me
mixing with crickets and peepers

calling out into the darkness,
searching for a dream
fit to be called a true marriage—

our gift constantly opening,
revealing a mystery and a majesty
larger than the box itself—

stunning in the simplicity
of renewed, remembered,
and resplendent love.

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