Window Sill Altar

Beneath a hushed
cathedral of trees,
I stand near the glass
as sunrise approaches,

the streaks of pink
and periwinkle-tinged
light unfurl like
birthday banners

in a pewter sky.
The gnarled fingers
of brown trees limbs
rise in joyfulness,

lifting the darkness;
auburn light bathes
the sleepy shadows.
My heart rises

like a chalice held high,
an offering of
the warm wine of gladness,
the broken bread of praise.

Today is the pristine page
of second chance,
fresh absolution spread
as a veritable feast.

The Lord of Hospitality
bequeaths this one shining cup,
and mystery brims
in new wineskins.