Morning Quiet

Awakened by the thunderstorm,
Safe in His hands I return the dream
As if the actors stopped the play
Until I returned from being awake

And when the scenes drifted away
And my dreams started to fade
Quiet light surrounded me
No more electricity

Children approached to say good morning
None of their voices hampered by buzzing noises
Just the morning, the sun, the quiet calm
The joy

Eventually, the electricity returns
Voices grows louder
The sound of forks and plates clinking together
As the breakfast table is occupied.

And so are my thoughts, occupied
Thoughs of His goodness, His mercy and grace,
And those of clinging, and those of longing
Thankful for now, and for the hope of a better place.