Opening Curtains

As I open my mail box
The yearning for that magic
Still possesses me
That greets the child
Who, upon waking
Peels back the curtains
Hiding inside from outside
And outside from inside
To discover that it’s snowed overnight
Changing everything
Into new possibilities
Yet, possibilities prepared for
With shovel and sled and toboggan
Lying idle in the shed
Waiting, waiting, waiting
For the chance
To greet the white of day
With a slide out from despondency
Into wild abandonment
Of all that has held confined
In the slow, dull torture of neglect
Yet, as I open my mail box
Day after day
Like the gambler held fast at the fruit machine
Cranking the handle
One more time
After one more time, after one more time, after one more time
Yearning for the sound of cavalcades of pennies dropping
All that greets is blankness
More of the same old scene
A world going about its same old busyness
Same old arguments
Unaware – apart from the odd bright gleam or tinkle
Of what would be possible
If only that penny would drop
Like a snowflake in still, quiet air
Into the void that isn’t a void
But the well in the heart of the Soul

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