the deepening ground

Monday morning. What should be a fresh start to a week frequently feels like a Normandy beach landing. Before my eyes have time to adjust to the pre-dawn twilight, my alarm shocks me to attention. My vessel, the warm confines of my down-quilted bed, arrives suddenly on the shores of a new day, and, whether I’m ready for it or not, the Higgins boat spills open. Beyond just Mondays, this is my prayer (in sonnet form) for every day.

Treble Tide – vincent h. anastasi (2016)

When we on churning shores arrive
And spill out tumbling o’er the side
Of vessels warm in pre-dawn’s shade
To cast off rest and rise up brave,
Then let my eyes still see each face
And hear the trumpet call to grace
That I might come to evening’s tent,
Though battle-worn and fully spent,
Wholly confident in naught
But that I gave my all in all,
And lying down, I’ll still abide
When morning breaks in treble tide.