My world reverbs with blaring noise:
The radio blasts; singers’ groan.
The news deafens with shots and moans.
Emma, with her soup spoon, bangs toys.
At 5 AM or 10 at night
I retreat to my screen-in deck.
Gazing outside at upper specks
Sparkling in their boundless heights,
As darkness guards this sacred calm
And damp seeps through to touch my face:
God’s voice breathes through this holy space
And soothes my soul with quiet balm.