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.
