What's next

I am not exactly sure

What’s next,

Even less

What may come

After that.

The phone rings

This morning

Reminds me about lunch.

Oh yes

Lunch usually comes

After breakfast.

I get up

Into this spinny day

To start the morning routine.

Sometimes it helps

Simply

To begin.

Boxes

I remember, as a child, hearing about all the starving children in other parts of the world. It was a ploy to get me to eat my breakfast, my lunch, my dinner. It was a ploy to get me to appreciate what I had: the spinach, the runny eggs, the canned button mushrooms I picked out of every spaghetti sauce my mother made. I am done with ploys, but still admit I have a few of my own. My children are grown. Then there's still me, thinking it is possible to box up my own needs, send them, like breakfast, to the starving children in other parts of the world. No. It's a ploy.

I box what I need

For those in need

On the other side of the world.

It does not help

Either one of us.

Better

It is good to have friends who notice.

It is better

She says

To have breakfast

With the likes of Disappointment,

In the spring,

When the weather is warmer,

The light is clearer,

The trees full-blossomed.

How was breakfast

This weekend?

She asked.

I replied

I think we*re getting somewhere,

Wherever somewhere is.

Possibility for breakfast

I am getting settled into the idea that I will probably not get that final license.  Of course, when I really think about it, I am already doing what I feel called to do, half-licensed though I am.  So I will sit at breakfast with Disappointment and Possibility tomorrow and we will take a walk under the flowering trees after we eat.

I think I will invite Possibility

For breakfast

In the morning

While the others sleep in.

I will make scrambled eggs,

Rye toast

And a pot of strong coffee

For us to share.

Disappointment may join us

For a time,

Share a bite or two.

I will even set her a place

At the table.

Maybe she will feel better

After a walk in the backyard

Under the deep pink

Crabapple tree.

The petals may be falling

By then.

Maybe the redbud in front

Will make

A similar offering.

Maybe Possibility and I

Will each hold a hand,

Walk Disappointment

Under the falling

pink/purple blossoms.

Morning conversation with Humility and Perspicacity

I am still not sure how to pronounce perspicacity.  She was a surprise breakfast guest this morning.  Humility has a regular chair at the table these days.

I sit with Humility and Perspicacity

This morning.

Humility drinks herbal tea.

Perspicacity likes coffee black.

Me?

Black coffee with a generous dollop

Of cream.

Humility and Perspicacity both

Are dressed for breakfast

And beyond.

Me?

I made it out of bed

Accomplishment in itself.

I sit in pajamas,

Notice the lawn care people

Already at work

In the neighborhood.

I consider rejuvenating

My high school knowledge of Spanish.

Humility suggests I consider

The room upstairs,

The room that will host

Our exchange student

Next Saturday.

Perspicacity  offers the possibility

Of one step at a time.

She attends AA meetings,

Likes to consider

The next right thing.

I wonder

Do these women always

Live into their names?

When Perspicacity appeared

I had to look up the meaning of her name.

Humility was an easy one.

She shows up regularly.

The next right thing is breakfast.

Humility eats oatmeal.

With Perspicacity

It depends on the day.

Me?

I eat a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats

With Almonds,

Pour myself another cup of coffee

With a dollop of cream.

More hot water, another tea bag

For Humility;

For Perspicacity

A warmer of black coffee.