And above hang heavy lashes. Hands reach back
To the rub the knots of stress to gentle slack,
Perchance it may revive a former zest.
Long days of dishes make a sticky mess
While crumbs seem yet more crumbiness attract
And piles of laundry ebb and flow in their attack,
Lists and plans and calendars and clocks onward press.
By night the circuits of the brain say "Cease."
Voice is soft and just a little hoarse in bedtime song.
Darkness gathers to hide the pains of day
A cleansing for the soul that has begun to fray.
Unspoken prayers are lifted from between the sheets,
To still the busy hands and aching bones.
Right now I am eight months pregnant and raising two energetic toddlers. Everyday is exhausting! Every decision takes effort. So many days there are things that must be left undone. Yet we are all fed, clothed, and usually happy. New mercies are that of patience and grace to make it through each day from sunrise to sunset! (And sometimes in the middle of the night as well.)