Advent II

toast and tea
remain unfinished
lying on the breakfast table:
a flash of a conversation
hardly begun
sits alongside the riches
of the longer, slower
deeper growth of promise
now left to yesterday
to care for and bless;
a few words have been
scattered like crumbs
across a morning hour
waiting to be picked up
at some future moment:
a word yet to be fulfilled
in some continuing conversation
at the kitchen table;
unfinished tales
paused in their telling
waiting for another time
when paths will cross
and words can be drawn together
to speak of what has happened
and what is yet to be:
crossover moments
between past and future
that beats an advent rhythm
of tangled, unfinished story
and tentative expectation