Inspired by images of my Great-Grandma Martin
Watering cans standing behind the shack,
Dew dripping from the rusting metal roofs,
Drip, drip - dawn again,
Sun rises above the tops of mountains.
Ripening raspberries wake to the light.
Steam rises from the blue pot for tea.
Suitcase is ready for the train to Jerusalem, and
The smell of pine burns from the warming fire.
Rising from the porch, the dog heads for the barn.
Whispers of the morning drip, drip.
Peace has come again over the mountains;
Yet she sits, hair gray, waiting for Jerusalem.