Evening has rushed up to the windows
and peers in
at our curious cavern of time
after the day’s duties,
before a young night,
where the hope and emptiness of our prospects
converge

We found moments of calm today
in the pushing aside of many things,
our work, our waiting,
our restless wrestling,
and we heard, faintly,
the clear direction
that will pull us through the coming days

This evening will stitch itself closed
without our doing anything —
we will miss the bauble of a night out,
though we may gain
(as is our deeper need)
something timeless.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 11, 2017