We require very little really;
clean water, good food,
a place to hide from the elements,
regular physical, loving contact
with other human beings,
a time each day to get so quiet
we can hear our own mind and then
only a blessed rhythm (time with God)
our connectedness with every atom,
but quiet, a Divine lullaby,
a creation, even a minor notion materialized
as a beat drummed out against the edge
of the dining room table,
a dinner prepared perhaps,
or a quilt for our niece,
and adequate rest.
We are in our mobile Day Cave this afternoon, an air conditioned shelter behind thick curtains drawn to block a southern sun from baking us, or rather seeping into our skin through windows that, other hours, let in views of the varied beauty of our nation’s landscape.
We’ve acknowledged each other kindly, prayed for guidance and assistance, together, made a couch beside the food boxes, a temporary retreat.
I have chocolate chips, coffee, orange juice, computer, my feet up, a haven from the world for a spell. One son sleeps beside me, the other content with a long turn on the ipad. Dad sleeps too, after a long
night of work. For this moment, we have everything we need.