This liminal season in somber tones
of rain as sounds on rooftops
dripping splashes from creaking eves
blowing swirls of drizzle around summer chairs
forgotten in the sodden backyard tangle.

These darkening hours in shades of gray
among the wilted stems and withered leaves
in a wet mess where in spring grew the green garden
budding in bright lime and lush leaves.
Now, an oozing palette of soppy yellow-brown
fused in an organic, slippery, molding life.

Advent – the threshold over which I hang
suspended between the earth and heaven –
posing still the questions I asked when,
as a child, I turned out the lamp to sleep
or, later, woke to a dark and breathless silence.

The only answer I’ve received
among all the bright or forlorn possibilities
is the answer of the season:

Wait.

Be still.

Awaken.

Portland, Oregon – Advent eve, November 27, 2016